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THE TEST OF COURAGE 



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THE TEST 
OF COURAGE 


BY 

H. M. ROSS 

• » 

Author of That Man's Daughter," Her Blind 
Folly," "'In God's Good Time," etc. 


¥ 




NEW YORK CINCINNATI CHICAGO 

BENZIGER BROTHERS 

PRINTERS TO THE HOLY APOSTOLIC SEE 

1908 





LIBRARY of COhlSRESsI 

Two Copies Kecojvej f 

FEB 19 !908 


o. /^ots 

XXc. ttu. 

/^q^s-3 

co/y 6 


37 


Copyright, 1908, by Benziger Brothers. 


CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

I. Dr. Mansfield 7 

II. Strange News 21 

III. The Blow 33 

IV. The Mysterious Visitor ... 52 

V. A Clash and a Decision .... 70 

VI. Austin's Return 89 

VII. Changes 104 

VIII. The Disappointment .... 123 

IX. What Happened 137 

X. The Silver Lining .... 150 

XI. “ Without Prejudice " .... 163 

XII. The New Superintendent . . . 176 

XIII. Austin Learns the Truth . . . 191 

XIV. The Test of Courage .... 214 

XV. The Warning 231 

XVI. How IT WAS Settled . . . 249 


/ 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


CHAPTER I. 

DR. MANSFIELD. 

The two children came running along the path 
to the house when they saw the woman in the 
doorway. She waved her apron at them, 
warningly. 

“Easy there, easy!^’ she exclaimed; “it is too 
hot to run like that. Stop it, Austin! You 
should have sense if Vera hasn’t any.” 

The boy swung a bright tin pail over his head. 

“Haven’t many berries left, mother!” he cried. 
“Vera and me’ve eaten them all.” 

“Vera and me’ve eaten them all!” Mrs. Mans- 
field looked at him with some disgust on her 
pleasant, motherly face. “If your father heard 
you, my boy—” 

“Oh, I know, mom,” he said, easily, “but he 
isn’t listening — ” 

“So you think you can use just what sort of 
English you choose, lad, eh?” interrupted deeper 
tones, as a gentleman, rising from the easy-chair 
7 


8 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

hidden behind the thick vines of the porch, came 
into view. Underneath the apparent severity 
of his manner was a pleasantry which the keenly 
observant boy noted at once. 

^‘It^s vacation,’^ he said, “and it’s outdoors — 
and Vera and I have had a lovely time, pop. 
You should have been with us. Girls are terrible 
scary.” 

“You’ll find out some day just how ^ scary’ 
they are,” said the father, laughing in spite of 
himself. “I suppose you had some ghost story 
ready when you got out there in the woods and 
frightened Vera to death. Come here, little 
daughter,” he added, holding out his hand. 
“What did that big, lumbering fellow of mine 
say to you?” 

The little girl, who had run up fearlessly to Mrs. 
Mansfield, approached the father more timidly. 
She was not yet old enough to tell why she pre- 
ferred her best friend’s mother to his father. Dr. 
Mansfield was a genial man, rather patronizing 
in his manner, a bit pompous, too — conscious of 
the dignity of his profession. In addressing 
children — and to him any one under sixteen was 
a child still in swaddling-clothes — he talked down 
to them in a fashion that children unconsciously 


DR. MANSFIELD. 


0 


resented. He would have been a little surprised 
had he known thirteen-year-old Vera Naughton's 
private opinion of him — surprised and a little 
displeased. He held her thin brown hand in his 
smooth white one now, and smiled into the grave 
face she lifted to his own. 

He was a singularly handsome and imposing 
man, this Dr. Mansfield — tall, a little inclined to 
take on fiesh, but enabled by superior height and 
fine muscular development, to carry it well. His 
face was smooth and clear-skinned; his mustache 
a dark-brown, as were his eyes ; lashes and brows 
were luxuriant, and the brows well-defined. 
These and his hair were very black, which con- 
trasted with the whiteness of his skin. The 
carefully- tended mustache hid a mouth a trifle 
weak, perhaps, but there was no suspicion of this 
weakness in any other feature, nor was his bearing 
or speech inclined to convey any lack of strength 
either of character or physique. 

“He^s just like a picture,'^ Vera said once to 
her comrade Austin, when they were discussing 
his father and mother. “ He’s almost pretty.'’ 

'‘Mother’s the prettiest,” said Austin, jealously. 

Vera pondered. 

"Yes,” she said, after a moment, "she’s the 


10 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

prettiest — but I don't know why. And you're 
like her, Austin, only you're not pretty." 

Austin nodded, well-satisfied. He was very 
proud of his handsome father and it pleased him 
mightily to be pointed out as ^‘Austin Mansfield, 
the son of the clever specialist." He admired 
his father with all his heart, and yet — Well, 
most every fellow he knew loved his mother better 
than his father — except Vera, and Vera said she 
didn't know which of the two she cared most for — 
father or mother. “Both loved her between 
them," said Vera, unconsciously, perhaps, setting 
a standard that other fathers and mothers might 
do well to strive to attain. 

Again, while satisfied to be like his mother, 
Austin was also well-satisfied at not being termed 
“pretty." He would be a good-looking man. 
His blue-gray eyes were well-opened — the color 
and shape of his mother's. His hair was a chest- 
nut-brown like hers. His lips were flexible and 
sensitive like hers. His nostrils large and thin — 
in all his features he was like her on a somewhat 
enlarged plan. And, like her, the honest soul 
spoke from his countenance. Dr. Mansfield 
might be a highly-respected, highly-esteemed 
member of the community, but his wife was 


11 


m. MANSFIELD, 

termed the good angel of the parish. Dr. Mans- 
field, in his handsome phaeton and splendid bay 
horse, drove up in state to the church door every 
Sunday morning to Mass, and knelt in his pew, 
the picture of self-satisfied content. He discussed 
religion in a lordly way with good Father Barry, 
and headed a subscription list with a goodly sum 
— but never if it were not brought to him first, 
and if his name did not precede all others. God 
forgive me,” said Father Barry to himself, more 
than once, “and keep me from judging any one 
wrongly, but every time I look at that man I 
think of the Pharisees of Our Lord’s time.” 

That Mrs. Mansfield was not deceived in regard 
to her husband’s love of display and ostentation 
was shown once in a conversation she held with 
the priest. 

“He keeps within the limits of the law — con- 
fession and communion at Easter,” she said, and 
the priest imagined he saw a flash of regret cross 
her delicate, sensitive face. “He wasn’t reared 
in an atmosphere of piety, you see. Father — his 
youth didn’t amount to much in that regard. I 
am satisfied that he complies with all the rules, 
goes to Mass on Sunday, is well- versed in the 
duties of his religion. The tender love the rest 


12 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

of us have for God's holy Church was left out of 
him — and that's why I am so careful and so 
observant of every little thing that will make 
Austin's future a looking backward on the gentle 
home life which his religion meant to him. I 
never lose an opportunity to impress this upon 
him." 

Nor did she. The doctor might perform his 
rounds punctiliously — and he was undoubtedly 
clever. He was exact and orderly in the discharge 
of every duty. A hurried midnight call found him 
the self-possessed, clear-headed man of noon. 
But with Mrs. Mansfield a different atmosphere 
seemed to enter the house. Deeply religious, 
deeply imbued with a reliance on God's will, 
she brought peace with her — a holy peace, that 
the world could not give. Truly, in looking 
backward, Austin Mansfield found his father's 
somewhat stereotyped cleverness a keen foil for 
the tranquil, dignified kindness of his mother's 
bearing. 

Now, as Vera stood looking up at Austin's 
father and saw that he expected an answer to his 
question, she shrank a little. She could not 
bring herself to repeat the trivial tale of their 
morning in the woods. So she stood shy and 


DR. MANSFIELD. 


13 


embarrassed, rubbing one foot against the other 
in true child-fashion. 

^‘Well, my little dear, and won’t you tell me 
all about it?” he went on, pinching her round 
pink cheek. 

“Austin said — he said there was a big elephant 
in the woods — that it got away from the circus 
and that it would surely crush us to death.” 

“What a tale of horror! ” exclaimed the doctor, 
releasing her then and laughing. “It would have 
served Austin right if the elephant had put in an 
appearance.” 

Vera looked thoughtful. 

“Haven’t you a glass of milk for the children?” 
continued the doctor, addressing his wife. “Run 
inside, little ones, and mother will give you some 
milk and crackers.” 

In other words, as they realized, he wanted to 
get rid of them. Both children, nothing loath, 
followed Mrs. Mansfield into the cool kitchen, 
where they pulled their chairs up to the oil- 
clothed table and sat down to a happy chat over 
milk and home-made cake. 

“We picked ’most ten quarts of berries,” de- 
clared Austin; “ and then Vera and I went off into 
the woods. Oh, it was fine in there, mom, fine.” 


14 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


And the trees were so tall and so straight and 
they stood up so, and the sunlight came in in 
patches — ” from Vera. 

Austin: And far off you could hear the crows, 

and there was a dandy robin redbreast and Vera 
and I sat watching him. We found out where his 
nest was — it had three eggs in it.’^ 

And what happened the berries during all this 
time?^’ inquired Mrs. Mansfield. 

‘^Oh, we were eating them, of course. But 
Austin said that he could hear the elephant look- 
ing for us. I was so scared. He said an elephant 
need just step on you once and you’d be a 
goner.” 

You had no right to say that,” said the mother, 
‘d’m a bit surprised, Austin — I thought you were 
supposed to take care of Vera as if she were your 
sister.” 

Vera looked at the boy critically. 

think he was teasing,” she said, frankly, 
“because when he saw I was frightened, he said 
that if an elephant ever dared to come near me 
he’d let him trample on him first — that I could 
surely get away. And I’m sure he would,” she 
ended positively. 

“I’m sure he would, too,” said Mrs. Mansfield 


DR. MANSFIELD. 


15 


^'and I know he would. Better be a dead hero 
than a live coward, Austin.” 

“Yes, ma^am,” said Austin. He knew his 
mother’s bravery and had inherited her fearless 
spirit. “I don’t think I’d run away from any- 
thing — though I might be scared.” 

So the conversation went on, pleasantly enough, 
and prosaically enough, until Vera felt that she 
must leave for home, and Austin asked permission 
to walk to her gate with her. His father, still 
seated in the comfortable rocker on the broad 
veranda, his finger marking the place in the vol- 
ume he was reading, watched them until they 
disappeared; then he turned to the mother. 

“How old is Austin now — nearly sixteen, 
isn’t he?” 

Mrs. Mansfield had been staring after the chil- 
dren with a strange mixture of tenderness and 
concern in her eyes. She started noticeably 
when her husband asked this question. 

“Nearly that,” she answered, “but why?” 

“It is almost time for him to be putting away 
the things of children; he ought to be preparing 
to face life’s stern realities, Juliet.” 

Her brow contracted. 

“I suppose so,” she said, “I suppose so.” 


16 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


“ Nearly sixteen! And I have never heard him 
say one word concerning the future calling upon 
which he will have to enter in two or three years. 
Don’t cosset him, too much, Julie.” 

^^He’s too manly to be cosseted, Alfred,” she 
said, a trifle vexed. “And I’m sure he isn’t any 
the worse for a bit of tenderness from his mother. 
He’ll have it to remember when the future that 
you are talking of will be like ashes in his mouth.’' 

“I have none of it to remember — and I don’t 
see that I am any the worse,” was her husband’s 
retort. 

A winning smile lighted up the blue-gray eyes 
so like her son’s. 

“None the worse, indeed, Alfred, but — ” and she 
looked at him very tenderly, “you’ve missed 
much in your life that you don’t know how to 
regret.” 

To a remark of this description. Dr. Mansfield 
had nothing to say. It hardly sank below the 
surface, it seldom affected him, but he liked to 
feel that his wife considered him a trifle cold and 
formal — in fact he prided himself a little on his 
self-possession. That she conceded him self- 
possession and a certain amount of unapproacha- 
bility pleased him. Perhaps, in his secret heart, 


DR. MANSFIELD. 


17 


he felt her superiority, and the claim that her 
warmer nature gave her on the souls and minds 
of their neighbors. 

''What would you have the lad do, Alfred?'’ 
she asked now, gently, as she took a seat on the 
upper step of the porch and looked at him. 
"Of course, you will not interrupt his vacation. 
He has earned it — has done you credit — has car- 
ried off many honors. And though this is a local 
school, even you have been forced to approve of 
its curriculum." 

She spoke gravely. Any one less self-engrossed 
would have known that she had had the matter 
under consideration and that in her own mind it 
was already settled. In fact, had Dr. Mansfield 
ever stopped to ponder on such a thing, he would 
have realized, with a little disgust, perhaps, that 
affairs went, generally, as the gentle, soft-spoken 
woman would have them go. This thought had 
never crossed his mind, however. Mrs. Mans- 
field was too wise ever to let him suspect it. 

"I am saying nothing against the past," he 
said now. " But — Ira wrote to me last week, and 
spoke of this very matter." 

The corners of Mrs. Mansfield's mouth quivered. 

" Ira — he speaks of Austin — " 


18 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


‘‘Yes. He will start him in his own counting- 
house. Small salary and all that, but a chance to 
learn the business and become an expert finan- 
cier.” 

‘^But that means — He will have to leave 
home.” 

“Ira and his wife have no children.” 

Silence a long moment. 

“He would live with them. I presume?” 

“ So Ira implies.” 

Again a silence. The mother looked thought- 
fully at her fingers. She seldom used her bus- 
bandy’s vanity to gain her end, but now every 
instinct of her heart rose up to protect her son 
from the danger she saw looming before him. 

“Does Ira know your position here?” 

“My position?” 

“Does he know what you are in Elmville? 
That your name is not confined to this place alone 
— that some at the head of the profession in the 
larger cities call you into consultation? That if it 
were not for your own health and mine and the 
boy’s you could have the luxury of a city dwelling 
and all its conveniences? Does Ira know this?” 

“To tell the truth, Juliet,” said Dr. Mansfield, 
Ira hasn' t much regard for the medical profession 


DR. MANSFIELD. 


19 


— as a money-making scheme it is a failure, and 
not to make money is a crime. 

She looked at him with wide, grave, beautiful 
eyes. 

“The money you handle, dear, is pure and 
clean — Ira’s is far from being that. No man in 
his position — after all, what is he but a gambler? 
— can be said to make his money honestly. I do 
wish Austin had an inclination toward medicine, 
but he has not, and I know he has none toward 
what is called high finance — its proper name 
might not be so high-sounding. I know that, 
positively. Another thing: What is the neces- 
sity of tying down your son to a counting-house, 
to doing the work of a drudge and a slave at 
sixteen years of age? That would be very well if 
we had a large family, other children to provide 
for. But since God has seen fit to take the others, 
is it right now to deprive Austin of the education 
which he needs, and which he so desires to ob- 
tain? Give him a few years at a good college if 
you want to, Alfred — but don’t^just because 
Ira, who despises your lack of worldly knowledge, 
writes you to that effect — don’t think you are 
doing anything salutary by putting Austin 
under his care,” 


20 


THE TEST OF COURAGE, 


Her husband looked thoughtful. Her words 
carried weight. 

'‘I don't see that it’s necessary to upset your 
plans because of Ira,” she pursued. '‘Give the 
lad his chance. Ira didn’t help to give you yours.” 

“That’s true,” said the husband, “that’s very 
true, Juliet. I have no cause to remember Ira 
with gratitude.” 

She drew a deep breath then. She knew she 
had succeeded. 

“A scoffer at religion, a mocker!” she told 
Father Barry afterward. “And a home life! 
There is no home life where there is no love for 
God and no faith. His wife is a society woman. 
She goes her way — he goes his. Church, faith — 
names, merely. Things to control the lower 
elements of the nation. And my boy to go into 
such an atmosphere? Oh, no — not my boy. 
But I was afraid for the moment. I thought Dr. 
Mansfield would not listen to me. But he did. 
He is really (l^uite sensible, Father.” 

The priest nodded. Perhaps he saw that a 
man can really gain the reputation of being sen- 
sible when he has some one to persuade him into 
common sense. He admired Mrs. Mansfield’s 
diplomatcy — but he did not tell her so. 


STRANGE NEWS. 


21 


CHAPTER II. 

STRANGE NEWS. 

Meanwhile no question was of less importance 
at that moment to Austin Mansfield than the 
question of his future career. He walked happily 
and light-heartedly beside Vera Naughton, plan- 
ning where they would go and what they would 
do on the morrow. Thoroughly manly and with 
a love of all boyish sports, he still felt that Vera 
had first claim on his attention. They had grown 
up beside each other, were confidants and com- 
rades. His home was hers — and at the Naughton 
farm no one had a greater amount of liberty than 
Dr. Mansfield^s son. The keen friendship existing 
between the two mothers had something, if not 
all, to do with this. Austin’s and Vera’s mother 
had been friends at school — so it was but perfectly 
natural that their friendship should be continued 
by their children. And although neither mother 
had said a word to the other, each cherished a 
secret hope that a closer bond might, in the future, 
unite this unconscious pair. This desire was to 


22 


THE TEST OF COVRAGE. 


be spoken of between them at a sad moment — but 
during all the years that saw the children growing 
up together, not a hint of it was ever breathed. 

“I^m going to play ball with Dick and Terry 
in the morning,” said Austin now. ‘^But I’ll 
come over right after lunch. To-morrow, I can 
take out the pony cart — Jennie’s foot is all better, 
and we’ll drive down to the railroad station to 
get some yellow molasses.” 

The average young man of sixteen is supposed 
to have gotten over his longing for the taffy of his 
school days, but Austin was not the average 
young man. He was far and away manlier in 
some things, and a great deal more childish in 
others. 

Vera laughed in pleased anticipation. 

** Father ’ll be home now — he went to the city 
to-day,” she said; “come on in and see what 
he brought us.” 

“I forgot all about that,” said Austin. “Sure, 
I’ll go in.” 

There was a short cut to the low farmhouse by 
way of the cow pasture. Austin pulled out one 
of the bars and they climbed over the other one, 
and then sauntered leisurely across the field, 
stopping to pet the handsome Alderney that was 


STRANGE NEWS. 


23 


Vera^s own, given to her on her last birthday. 
The proceeds gained from the sale of what milk 
or butter was given by this cow belonged to 
Vera. 

“ And she gives two quarts more than any other 
cow on the whole place, said Vera, gleefully. 
^‘She gave three over last night."' 

^‘You'll be rich soon, maybe,” said Austin. 

Maybe,” said Vera, vaguely. The words 
*‘rich” or “poor” held no meaning for her. The 
Naughtons had attained the happy medium — 
they were neither rich nor poor. “Your father's 
rich, isn't he, Austin?” 

“I think so,” — said Austin. “I often hear 
mother telling him he ought to be — and then she 
laughs.” 

“I love your mother,” said Vera. 

“Yes,” acquiesced Austin, cheerfully, “so do I.” 

“But I don't think I ever could love your 
father,” went on the little girl, reflectively. 

“Father's so clever, I don't think he needs 
much love,” said Austin, with an insight far 
beyond the meaning of the words to him. “He's 
different to mother.” 

“Yes,” said Vera; and then she broke off the 
conversation abruptly. “There's old Larry at the 


24 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


wicket; maybe he’s found our Dick. Let’s run, 
Austin.” 

But Larry, when they reached him, had not 
found Dick, the canary that had escaped earlier 
in the day, and being a wise bird would never be 
seen again by this mischievous pair. 

From the wicket was but a few steps into the 
low, broad farmhouse. But no gentle, smiling 
mother-face met them at the door, nor was she 
to be found in dairy or kitchen. Dismayed, Vera 
went upstairs. It could not be possible that her 
mother was ill! A peep into every room on the 
second story showed that she was not in any of 
them. Down came Vera with a more perplexed 
face than ever — to meet the one she was searching 
for coming out of the parlor — an unheard-of 
occurrence at this hour of the day. 

*‘Have we company, mamma?” she asked, 
with a thrill of excitement, *^and is father back 
yet?” 

“He’s back, my dear,” said Mrs. Naughton. 
She was a much smaller woman than Mrs. Mans- 
field, with an oval face, dark hair, and brown 
eyes. “And we have no company,” smiling, in 
spite of her evident agitation. “You must not 
be disappointed, dear. Father has been very, 


STRANGE NEWS, 


25 


very busy to-day— and I don't think he had time 
to remember you or Austin." 

^‘What's that, mother — forget my little girl?" 
called a hearty voice behind her; “ not for as many 
millions more — no, sir. Not for the whole farm! " 
Vera was swung off her feet by the big, stalwart, 
handsome farmer, and pressed to his breast 
warmly. “No, sir. I've bought a big game- 
board for Austin — you'll find it out under the 
back seat, young man — and the finest bird book 
they had in the store for you, Veronica." 

“And is mine under -the seat, too?" she asked, 
eagerly. 

“Yes — run off, both of you." 

Which they did at once — and Mrs. Naughton, 
pausing, returned to her husband's side and stood 
watching them as they hurried away. 

“It won't make them any happier," she said. 
“Not if it were as many millions more," with a 
laugh as she repeated his words. 

“It won't make us any happier, either, mother," 
he answered, fondly, putting his arm about her 
shoulders and gazing down into her face. “But 
I am pleased, nevertheless. I always wanted to 
know the feeling of having a whole lot of money — 
more than I ever could spend. We had a nasty 


26 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


fight right from the start, you and I — we had to 
work and scrimp and save and pinch — and now 
it’s all over — all over!” He spoke exultantly. 
“Off and away for us — to see the sights we’ve 
dreamed of seeing, to taste all the honest pleasures 
that money can afford!” 

She raised warning finger. 

“Don’t be toO enthusiastic, John Naughton,” 
she said. “Much can happen before you are able 
to carry out your schemes.” 

“Happen! ” he said, gleefully; “there is coal on 
the Naughton farm, my girl — and the Naughton 
farm is mine.” 

“Yes?” with a gentle uplifting of the eyebrows. 

“Mine and yours and Vera’s.” 

“I meant something else, John.” 

“The mortgage? A paltry six thousand dol- 
lars — why, we can clear it off in a jiffy. 
Rose.” 

“But we must clear it off first, John,” she said, 
pleadingly, looking up into his face. “Let us 
clear it off first.” 

He shook his head impatiently. 

“You don’t understand. Rose — you haven’t 
any business sense.” 

“I may not have any business sense, but I 


STRANGE NEWS. 


27 


have what I consider better. I want to see the 
farm our own before we start to tear it up.’’ 

“We can work and scrimp and save another 
ten years before we’ll have enough money to put 
in the necessary machinery,” said Naughton, with 
an undercurrent of annoyance in his tones. 
“We have four thousand dollars saved now — and 
you know Dr. Mansfield won’t take part pay- 
ments. We’ve tried him on that before. He 
wants the whole six thousand down at once.” 

“You could take Vera’s money — the two 
thousand mother left me in trust for her, and 
complete the thing. If the farm is really so 
valuable, dear, you will have no difficulty in 
putting it back. But before I told a soul, I 
would clear off the mortgage.” 

“If I have the mine in operation I can show 
that it is no mere supposition — that a good vein 
exists, which will be workable for the next thirty 
years — don’t you think I can ask what I choose 
for it? Whereas, while the mine is a mere possi- 
bility I must allow would-be purchasers to haggle 
over that fact. That’s expressly what I went to 
town for to-day. Rose. I saw Lawyer Planck. 
He says to ask Dr. Mansfield for an extension of 
time on the mortgage and have papers filed to 


28 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


that effect, and then to carry out my intentions. 
Now, you know Planck wouldn’t advise me against 
my own interests, would he?” 

“No,” said Mrs. Naughton, reluctantly. 
“ Planck is a good friend, John.” 

“So he is.” John Naughton smiled. He had 
won a concession from her at any rate. “ It now 
remains for me to see Dr. Mansfield. And I 
know that Dr. Mansfield would give me twenty 
years longer to pay the mortgage if I wanted it.” 

“What will you do then?” asked Rose 
Naughton. 

“Then, I’ll draw out the money to make a 
start. I won’t touch Vera’s unless it is absolutely 
necessary. Besides, I merely intend to hold the 
place until a satisfactory offer presents itself. 
This is only a question of a brief space of time. 
And, my dear, after that the plans shall be of 
your making.” He looked at her with great 
tenderness. “The sweet visions of our early days 
are to be realized at last. Do you remember 
them, my Rose?” 

She smiled a loving smile in response to that 
question, for well she knew and remembered those 
plans that had been shattered almost in the mak- 
ing. For an instant, in spite of the warning 


STRANGE NEWS. 


29 


intuition in her breast, she saw those sweet plans 
realized — the dreamy journeys into distant lands, 
the touching at many ports, the whole varied 
brilliancy of earth made theirs — when ear could 
revel in strange sounds and eye delight in pictures 
of the beautiful. That soft smile seemed to 
illumine her face — and she looked up into her 
husband’s countenance. 

John,’’ she said, “you may call me what you 
will — a spoil sport, if you like, but those dreams 
of ours are never to come true.” 

He caught her in his arms boyishly. 

“Rather, you have faced disappointment with 
me so long that it is hard for you to understand 
our rare good fortune. Don’t try. Rose. It will 
be so very much more wonderful when it comes.” 

“When are you going to see Dr. Mansfield?” 

“At once, my dear — Here’s Austin now. 
I’ll go back with him. Well, lad, have you found 
everything to your satisfaction?” 

“ Fine! ” said Austin, from the doorway “Vera 
and I’ll have a good time to-morrow afternoon. 
I’ll bring it home to show mother, of course, but 
I’ll fetch it back again. Want to see it, Mrs. 
Naughton? Thank you ever so much, Mr. 
Naughton.’^ 


30 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


''That’s all right/’ said John Naughton heartily, 
as his wife examined the handsome gameboard 
with the interest she showed in all " the children’s ” 
treasures. "I’m going back with you, boy. 
Your father is at home, I suppose?” 

"Yes, sir — but he’s going to Newfieldson the 
8:30 train.” 

"I’ll have time to catch him then, and have a 
talk with him. Good-by, little woman; good-by, 
Vera. I’ll expect to hear your verdict on the new 
bird book when I get back. I’m starved, mother. 
Be sure to have something good to eat and plenty 
of it, and I won’t be more than three-quarters 
of an hour away.” 

Whistling blithely, he left the house. The tall, 
large-limbed, fair boy looked enough like him in 
figure to be his son, thought Mrs. Naughton, as 
she stood watching them. A sigh barely parted 
her lips — she wished that a son might have been 
born — a boy like John himself — And then she 
turned to meet Vera’s gaze upon her — the anxious, 
studious gaze of a child-woman — a child who 
has entered into her mother’s every thought and 
care, and who, while retaining the simplicity of 
her years, had yet much more than the foresight 
which usually accompanies that simplicity. 


STRANGE NEWS. 


31 


“Mother, you look worried,” she said; “what 
has father been doing? Selling something 
again?” 

Mrs. Naughton laughed. 

“That is the only thing that can bring a look of 
worry?” she asked. “Father has been selling! 
What would father say, Vera, if he heard?” 

“HeM laugh, mother — but what is it?” 

“Nothing now, my dear — or everything. 
Father has found out that there is coal in great 
quantities on our land. Instead of paying off 
the mortgage he will use the money to install 
machinery, so that, he says, he can sell for a 
higher price. The mortgage falls due next year, 
and Dr. Mansfield, as you know, holds it. Father 
went to the city to consult Lawyer Planck to-day, 
and has now gone to see Dr. Mansfield.” 

Mrs. Naughton^s words were simple and 
straightforward. She never evaded Vera’s ques- 
tions unless she deemed the question unad vis able, 
when she told her so and answered it at some 
future time. Vera listened very gravely to her 
now. 

“That means,” she said, after a few moments, 
“that we will give up the farm, doesn’t it?” 

“In time, dear.” 


32 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


^‘And leave Elmville — and Austin — and dear 
Mrs. Mansfield?” 

“I suppose so.” 

Again the girl was silent. 

‘‘Will you like that, mother?” she asked, 
wistfully. 

“Not at first, girlie. But like everything else, 
we will get used to it — and even wonder how we 
ever cared for poky little Elmville. And then, 
after a while, there will come a great longing for 
the dear old place, and we’ll come back to it, and 
find it full of machinery and derricks and miners’ 
cottages, and we’ll build a new house for ourselves 
away out in the suburbs and live happy forever 
after.” 

Vera’s face was alight now with pleasure. 

“That sounds like one of our old-time fairy- 
tales,” she said. 

“It will be a fairy-tale come true — if nothing 
happens.” Then she added, with a strange look 
in her soft eyes: “Let us pray that nothing 
happens for father’s sake. I think a disappoint- 
ment now would break his heart.” 


THE BLOW 


33 


CHAPTER III. 

THE BLOW. 

Considering this matter rather as an under- 
standing between friends, John Naughton,’^ said 
Dr. Mansfield pompously, “and that your family 
and mine are so intimate, I don’t see the necessity 
of going into legal details. True, I told you that 
I wanted the mortgage satisfied in one payment. 
But that was due to a certain reason — that you 
might not be hampered by lack of ready money 
at any time you needed it. An extension of time? 
You can have the next ten years in which to pay 
it, if you like. And if I am not alive when you 
are ready, there is Mrs. Mansfield — or Austin. 
Give it to them. What is six thousand dollars 
to me? A mere trifle, my dear fellow. Let us 
dismiss the matter, and allow me to congratulate 
you on your good fortune.” 

Much elated, John Naughton accepted the con- 
gratulations which followed. Then Mrs. Mans- 
filed was called in, and her gentle, heartfelt joy 
added to his happiness. But listen to how these 


34 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


two women received the news of Dr. Mansfield^s 
treatment of the subject. 

“I think you ought to attend to the matter 
legally, Alfred. Supposing anything happened 
to you?^^ remarked Mrs. Mansfield. 

“Then you and Austin could foreclose on him 
between you,” said the doctor, jocosely. 

“Don’t jest, Alfred. Don’t you think they’d 
feel safer if you put your promise in due legal 
form? Rose Naughton has been thinking of 
nothing this last four years but getting out of 
debt.’' 

“Rose Naughton can surely trust my wordy 
Juliet, if her husband sees fit to do so. I won’t 
bother any further with the thing.” 

“ ‘A mere trifle!’ ” remarked Rose Naughton, 
when her husband repeated the conversation, 
“and he would not accept part payment for your 
sake, that you might have ready money?” She 
laughed a little. “Well, it was a very necessary 
part of his magnanimity that the interest was 
paid when it fell due. You have been behind 
with the interest only twice that I can 
remember — the year the fruit was blighted 
and that other year when Vera was so 
ill. But you received a delicate hint that 


TITE BLOW. 


35 


the money would prove acceptable, didn’t 
you?” 

*‘Rose, you’ve never liked Dr. Mansfield.” 

“As a physician, I respect his skill. As for 
Juliet — well, I love her with all my heart. But 
considering her husband as a man — there is some- 
thing — Oh, I can hardly explain it, John. 
There has been something left out of his compo- 
sition — he lacks heart, sentiment, he lacks all 
regard for the sweetness of life. And so, when one 
deals with him in a business manner, one wants 
all details complied with. I should insist, 
if I were you, in spite of his apparent friend- 
ship—” 

“My dear little woman, you are prejudiced 
against Mansfield. I have always felt that. But 
don’t let your prejudice blind you to the fact that 
even if he chose to foreclose when his niortgage 
comes due, my mine will be in running order then 
and I can pay him — why, I have no doubt that 
a few months’ time will see us rich beyond our 
wildest dreams.” 

“Oh, John, John!” she said. “Let me put no 
damper on your dreams, then. Go ahead. 
Surely I must be prejudiced, just as you say. 
Maybe it is because this new discovery has seemed 


36 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


to cut the old ground from under my feet, and I 
feel unsteady. That will soon pass.^’ 

;(c :|c 

Two or three months saw great changes in 
somewhat sleepy little Elmville. 

The news that coal had been found on the 
Naughton place spread rapidly. Real estate 
began to boom, land increased tremendously in 
value. John Naughton was now a busy man of 
affairs; the whole aspect of the town was changed. 
Shafts were sunk; the hum of machinery was 
heard. Speculators from afar came to Naughton 
with offers which he laughed at. 

And in the midst of the excitement Austin was 
sent to college. 

The parting was a sad one for the gentle mother 
who had built so many hopes about this splendid 
lad of hers. On the day of his going she took 
him with her into her room, and they sat down 
together for a long talk — a talk such as only a 
good, pure, loving, warm-hearted woman could 
give. She told him many things — advised him 
in many ways. Afterward, when he was in the 
thick of his studies, he contrasted his father’s 
advice with that of his mother’s. 


THE BLOW. 


37 


Always come out on top, my lad. Nothing 
succeeds like success, his father said. 

“Success is not the only thing needful, “ had 
been his mother’s words. “You will hardly need 
my advice, Austin, for you are going among men 
who understand the human heart in all its phases. 
But, my child, let nothing or no one ever cause 
you to turn a deaf ear to suffering. I want you 
to succeed, yes — I want you to do well. But I 
want you to be a good man, first and foremost. 
A good man first, a clever man afterward.” 

But that was only a small portion of all she 
said to him, and he treasured her words. Not 
that he thought he would treasure them particu- 
larly, then. He loved his mother, dearly, and 
listened to her as a dutiful son listens to those 
whom God has placed over him. But every 
word of that conversation was to remain with 
him. He remembered her after as he saw her 
then, standing in her plain, neat gingham gown 
and big apron, with the soft white fichu of lace 
about her throat. Standing on the steps, tears 
in her gentle eyes, but a brave smile on her 
lips as she kissed him good-by. That first part- 
ing stood out conspicuously — perhaps because 
it was the first. Vera Naughton had begged to 


38 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


be allowed to drive with him to the station, but 
Mrs. Mansfield, putting her hand on her shoulder, 
had said: 

‘^His father will go, Vera. Stay with me, 
little daughter. I shall not be so lonely. 

And Vera stayed — a sense of gladness filling 
her when she thought that this brave and gentle 
woman could find solace in her presence. She 
would write to Austin every week, she said, and 
he would answer her as frequently, if the rules of 
his new home permitted. He winked back the 
tears that persisted in coming to his eyes, and 
brushed his hand across them persistently. Dr. 
Mansfield made no comment. If he noticed the 
lad’s emotion he gave no sign, so that presently, 
after turning the curve that led from the pretty 
house and hid it from view, he was able to re- 
cover himself somewhat and fight down the 
sickness of longing that was beginning to sweep 
over him, even then, for the sight of his mother’s 
face. 

“She has Vera, though,” he thought, “and 
Vera will do her best to make her happy.” 

The drive was all too short, it seemed. Dr. 
Mansfield spoke of indifferent objects along the 
way. At the station, he seemed lost in thought 


THE BLOW. 


for a moment. Then he laid his hand impressively 
upon the boy's shoulder. 

“Austin, have you ever thought of being a 
priest? " 

Startled, the lad looked at him. 

“Why, no, father — I — I don't think I’d want 
to be a priest. I have never felt that I had a 
vocation. And without a vocation — it would 
be wrong, you see. I never thought you would 
want — ” 

“Indeed, I don't want," said Dr. Mansfield, 
hastily. “That is the reason I asked you. I 
want you to enter one of the professions and be 
a successful man. I merely put that question to 
you to find out your state of mind. It would be 
very much against my desire if you entered the 
priesthood. Do not be influenced in any way. 
The men to whom you are going are clever edu- 
cators, that I will admit. But do not let them 
or any one persuade you that there is anything 
in the ministry for you." 

“ I don't think any one would want to persuade 
me against my will," said Austin, thoughtfully. 
“At least, mother tells me so, and mother, even 
though she's so religious, never asked me that 
question." 


40 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


“Perhaps that^s why I asked it/' said Dr. 
Mansfield, laughing. “ Your mother is a splendid 
woman, my dear son, a fine woman, but she's 
very short-sighted sometimes. I had imagined 
for some few months past that she was endeavor- 
ing to put this idea into your head." 

“Oh, no, sir," said Austin. “She never spoke 
of such a thing, excepting that she told me to ask 
God's advice before deciding on my life work. 
I don't think I want to be a physician — and I'm 
sure I don't want to be a priest. So I must try to 
find out what I really care for, and study for it." 

“That is the way, my boy, that is it," said Dr. 
Mansfield, heartily. “I don't know that I can 
give you any better advice than your mother, 
after all." 

“Better advice than your mother, after all I" 
The words rang in Austin's brain, and involun- 
tarily his thoughts traveled backward a few 
short hours to that mother and her advice. Once 
more he felt how unworldly she was when 
contrasted with his worldly father. 

* sjc * ♦ Jfc 

Closer and closer crept Vera Naughton about 
Mrs. Mansfield's heart as the months slipped by. 


THE BLOW. 


41 


She had been so carefully reared by her own 
mother, and was so thoughtful and so earnest, 
for all her tender years — a thoughtfulness and 
earnestness that had never been so evident. For, 
while there were still prospects of good fortune 
in store for John Naughton, the rapid realization 
of his dreams had not taken place. Something 
was the matter. Those whom he expected to 
interest themselves most looked askance at the 
Naughton farm land. He had not yet received 
an offer which he considered worth his newly- 
discovered treasure. A faint wrinkle of worry 
was forming between Rose Naughton^s brows — a 
new wrinkle. She feared for the future — but 
she feared most of all for her husband, should his 
plans fail. 

As usual, Mrs. Mansfield was her great com- 
forter. The two women and the little girl grew 
very near to one another in the bond of love 
during those days. Juliet and Rose had been 
school-friends, and their maturity had trans- 
formed their childhood^s affection into an endur- 
ing one. To Juliet Mansfield was confided all the 
woes and worries of that troublous time, and, 
in return, Juliet gave to her friend the first inkling 
of her own great trouble — disclosing the fact that 


42 


^HE fJEJST OF COURAGE. 


she was the victim of an insidious disease, which 
was slowly but surely eating away her life. She 
hoped, she told her, with her rarely lovely smile, 
to see Austin grown up. 

And to tell me something I would dearly love 
to hear,'^ she went on. ‘‘Rose, I would have 
liked my one son whom God spared to be a priest. 
But Austin has never had a leaning toward the 
life, and it is a vocation that must not be forced. 
So, when I saw that, I hoped that in settling 
down he would choose Vera for a life-companion. 
I could die happy, if I thought they would love 
each other.^' 

“ It is not right to build their futures for them,^^ 
said Rose Naughton, thoughtfully. “And it is 
as well, perhaps, that Austin has gone away, and 
that they will be separated. They can make a 
better choice. I would be glad if Vera could care 
for Austin — but neither is this a thing in which 
parents can interfere. They can influence the 
choice of a state of life and guard and warn and 
pray — but in the end each individual must 
reckon with himself and only with himself.^^ 

“That, of course,” returned Mrs. Mansfield. 
“After all, it lies in God's keeping, and we are only 
His creatures to be moved about as He sees fit.” 


THE BLOW, 43 

“The doctor knows of this — ” ventured Mrs. 
Naughton. “Your trouble, Juliet?’* 

She smiled. 

“ No, my dear, he does not. I heard him talk 
of a certain specialist in the disease at one time 
and made it my business to get the specialist’s 
opinion. Regular living, country life, freedom 
from excitement and worry, no medicine — and 
wait for the end. I am waiting. God has been 
very good to me to keep me alive so long. I 
would only want to live for Austin’s sake.” 

She paused a moment. 

“That is hardly fair to Alfred,” she said then, 
thoughtfully. “I have had Austin’s training — 
he scarcely needs me now that the seeds of his 
future are planted in his bosom. But Alfred — 
poor Alfred.” She sighed. “He thinks he is so 
sufficient to himself, my poor fellow, and yet he is 
as helpless as an infant.” 

Rose Naughton smiled a little. It was her 
feeling exactly toward her big, capable husband. 
It struck her then that women have the habit of 
regarding their husbands as grown-up children, 
still requiring care and attention, and being 
spoiled, even as children are, by over much of 
both. 


44 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

After that, she exerted every particle of will- 
power she possessed to show a cheerful face to 
Juliet Mansfield. And soon it needed little 
exertion on her part. If worried or troubled, she 
had but to think of her brave friend to banish all 
depression from her mind. For if Mrs. Mans- 
field could be so untroubled, so content, facing 
certain death and enduring the greatest and most 
constant pain, what was mere pecuniary difficulty? 
Her attitude toward the other changed, subtly. 
She had always loved her, but now a reverence 
crept into her love that sanctified it. She looked 
upon her as one predestined — as one who had her 
life work done and was waiting her reward — 
which would be exceedingly great. 

Yet, in spite of the forebodings that sometimes 
swept across her cheerful nature, the next two 
years were happy enough. Austin came home 
from college on his vacations and he and Vera 
were better friends than ever. John Naughton’s 
prospects were brightening. Dr. Mansfield had 
advanced him further sums to carry out his 
schemes, and the mine was at last promising 
success. Everything seemed to point to a speedy 
settling of the Naughton affairs, when the blow 
fell. 


THE BLOW. 


45 


Vera, now a sweet-looking girl of fifteen, had 
gone as usual for her afternoon with her dear 
friend — an afternoon which they spent, when 
weather permitted, roaming through the stately 
woods which surrounded Elmville. When she 
went to the house, she found Mrs. Mansfield lying 
upon a couch in the dining-room. She looked 
up with a faint smile as Vera entered. 

“You are ten minutes late, sweetheart," she 
said, a little reproachfully. 

“ Oh, it is the clock," said Vera, laughing; “but 
you are pale — you are not ill?" 

“A little distressed — it is nothing. The 
doctor — " 

The sound of a door closing sent a shiver 
through her. She sat bolt upright then, al- 
though the movement seemed to cause her 
intense suffering. Footsteps passed along the 
hall. 

“Alfred!” she called. And then, a little more 
loudly: “Alfred — are you going out?" 

The footsteps ceased abruptly — there was 
silence. Then Dr. Mansfield entered the dining- 
room. Vera Naughton stared at him in mute 
astonishment. She had never seen him ruffled — 
had never seen his composure disturbed. But 


46 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


now he looked like a man who has received a 
great shock. 

I am going out — yes,” he said, almost roughly. 
‘‘I am going to write to that woman to come on 
here. See that a room is made ready for her.” 

“Alfred!” Mrs. Mansfield put her hand to her 
heart. “Can you not wait — a little while longer? 
You can easily make some excuse. I do not 
feel able to bear her presence here just now.” 

“You’ve read the letter, Juliet? You know 
what she says in it? ” 

“Send her money — do not bring her into the 
house. It will make me utterly miserable.” 

“I can not — I should be in a constant state of 
ferment lest any one else should hear or know. 
She is not discreet. If she told — ” 

An expression of pain crossed Mrs. Mansfield’s 
countenance. He looked at her then, keenly. 

“You are ill, Juliet?” 

“I am dying, Alfred,” she said, mournfully, 
and fell back, without another word, on the sofa. 
The doctor stared at her incredulously, heedless 
of the frightened scream that burst from Vera 
Naugh ton’s lips. Then he strode forward and 
lifted his wife’s head, and put a cushion under it. 
She was not unconscious, but her blue-gray eyes 


THE BLOW. 


47 


stared up at him with an expression of yearning 
in their depths. 

“What is this, Juliet? he said, almost harshly, 
for the shadow on her face frightened him. 
“What do you mean? You are ill? Seriously 
ill, I know — I can see — Vera, go at once for 
your mother — tell her that Mrs. Mansfield will 
need her for a little while.” 

When Vera and Mrs. Naughton reached Juliet 
Mansfield’s side Dr. Mansfield was acquainted 
with the whole fearful truth. He had been too 
long an observer of disease on the human frame 
to doubt the outcome of his wife’s illness now. 
The shock seemed to unnerve the man completely. 
He lost, almost within an hour, the complacency 
that seemed so inseparable a part of his compo- 
sition; the self-satisfaction left his countenance. 
His eyes wore a worried, haunted expression. He 
was no longer the man of science, cool and col- 
lected, shrewd and decided. He helped carry 
his wife to her chamber, and then briefly exam- 
ined and questioned her. The face he turned upon 
Mrs. Naughton was a ghastly one. 

“Send for Father Barry,” he said. “He can 
do more good now, than I.” 

Mrs. Naughton despatched Vera at once. She 


48 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


had expected this, ever since the conversation 
with her dear friend. Yet her heart was heavy 
and sore for the man who looked up at her with 
such agony in his eyes. 

‘‘Juliet! My dear wife!’^ he moaned, kneeling 
beside her and covering her hands with kisses. 
“Oh, my dear, dear wife, it was cruel to allow 
this to come upon me so. My dear, why did you 
not tell me?’^ 

A smile lighted up the woman^s pale face. 

“Poor Alfred — it is hard enough to bear_it 
now, without having had to dread it all these 
years,’^ she said, falteringly, for she was very 
weak. “Do not worry, husband — we shall not 
be separated long.” 

“But, Juliet, with that creature hounding 
me — and without you — I shall have no fortitude, 
no courage.” 

An expression of intensest pain crossed her 
face, as a pang of agony seemed to rend her frame. 
She waited until it passed and then spoke. 

“Is not your word enough?” she said. “Who 
will believe? Who will take her word against 
yours? No one — no one in the world. Face 
it bravely, Alfred, defy her, or she will ruin your 
career, your future.” 


THE BLOW. 


49 


He shook his head despairingly. Rose Naugh- 
ton looked on that scene without comprehension 
of it, but with a restless feeling of resentment. 
She saw that Dr. Mansfield, for all his pompous- 
ness and austerity, was selfish, bringing his own 
worries and cares to the bedside of a dying woman. 

“Don’t — let her come — here,” added Mrs. 
Mansfield, then. Her eyelids wavered, then 
closed over her tired eyes. Mrs. Naughton 
touched the husband’s shoulder. 

“Come away, doctor,” she said. “You will 
only make it worse. Let her rest until Father 
Barry comes.” 

“Woman, it is simply a question of a day or 
two at best — my place is here.” 

“Your place is to attend to those things 
necessary,” said Rose Naughton. “Where is 
Austin? You must bring Austin to her before 
she dies.” 

“I had forgotten,” he muttered, “I had for- 
gotten.” 

He went out of the room, meeting Father Barry 
on the threshold, but not seeing him. The 
priest did not speak, since he had the Holy Viati- 
cum with him, but there was a look of keenest 
sympathy in his eyes. The woman lying half- 


50 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


unconscious on the bed was, he knew, ready to 
meet the Creator who had given her life. But 
this man would be more desolate than any words 
could tell — only one who knew the soul of his 
wife as Father Barry knew it, could picture what 
a loss Juliet Mansfield would be, to her home, and 
to those among whom she moved, an influence for 
good. 

But it was God’s will — and God, who sees 
beyond our mortal ken, thought it time to reward 
the suffering of one of His most patient servants. 
This the priest understood. For she roused to 
consciousness at his voice, and made her confession 
humbly, and received our dear Lord with all the 
fervor of her sweet and pious nature. There were 
tears in the good man’s eyes as he knelt beside 
her. She smiled as his broken voice fell upon her 
ears and listened in quiet rapture, as of one who 
sees that the end is near, the goal almost at- 
tained. 

“Does Dr. Mansfield say how long she will 
live?” asked Father Barry of Mrs. Naughton, 
on his way out. 

“A day or two — no longer,” said Rose Naugh- 
ton. “I wish you would speak to him. Father. 
He is almost distraught. She has kept this from 


THE BLOW. 


51 


him all the time — how, God knows, and now that 
he realizes it, his heart seems broken.’’ 

“Poor fellow, poor fellow,” said the priest. 
For the first time in their existence they were 
pitying Dr. Mansfield, the self-sufficient. “When 
he loses her, he loses much.” 

“If not all. Father,” said Rose Naughton, 
almost involuntarily. 

“He has Austin,” said the priest. 

“Austin — yes — if it were a girl — ” Rose 
Naughton checked herself. “God help him, 
anyhow, the poor man.” 


52 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 

Austin did not arrive until noon the following 
day. He had barely understood the words of the 
President of the college, to whom Dr. Mansfield 
had directed a hasty telegram. His mother was 
ill! That sentence was enough to wake every 
fear in his young heart — he knew but too well 
that no trivial illness would be the means of 
calling him to his mother’s side. 

One of the older students accompanied him to 
the station. Every one who knew him liked 
happy, whole-souled Austin Mansfield. 

hope you’ll find things a bit better than you 
imagine when you reach home, old chap,” said 
Gregory Sharpe, shaking hands encouragingly. 
“And if you don’t — if the worst comes, you’ll 
have to brace up, that’s all. It’s something 
every one of us has to look to — the parting.” 

It was one man cheering another — Austin felt 
that. He knew, suddenly, as he stepped inside 
the train, his grip in his hand, th^t whether hig 


THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 


53 


mother lived or died he would never be a boy 
again. The horror of the thought of her death 
had stripped him of all boyishness. He had 
never anticipated such a dire event. He felt 
now that it was looming big before him, and 
realized that he would always dread it, whether 
it happened at the present time or not. 

He was greatly preoccupied, and his journey 
was half over before he even glanced at any of 
his companion travelers. Nor would he have 
noticed any one of them then had not a woman, 
seated opposite him, leaned forward and touched 
him on the knee. 

“Young man, will you see if you can open this 
window?'^ she asked. 

He sprang up quickly, and while she moved 
to make room for him he tugged at the sash 
and sent the window up with a bang. She 
thanked him profusely. He sat back in his seat 
once more and stared out into the rapidly shifting 
scene. 

But her keen eyes were on his face. Presently 
she touched him again. 

“Pardon me,^’ she said, “but are you not going 
to Elmville?’^ 

Austin started, and looked up. As he saw her 


54 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


then he always remembered her. Small of figure, 
clad neatly in a dark traveling suit, with a pale 
face, gray eyes not unlike his mother’s in hue, 
and a quantity of soft white hair on which was 
placed a becoming black bonnet. A woman of 
forty-five, who looked her age, and yet bore it 
well — prepossessing and distinctive of manner, 
with an air of dignity. 

Yes, madam — I am going to Elmville.” 

^‘To Dr. Mansfield’s, perhaps?” 

“Dr. Mansfield is my father,” said Austin. 

“And a very dear friend of mine,” said the 
lady. “My name is Christine Verney. You 
have heard of me?” 

Austin shook his head. 

“No, ma’am — I have never heard the name.” 
Her expression became one of injury — so that he 
added, “But that is not strange. I seldom paid 
attention to names at home. My father is a busy 
man, and we never had him long enough with us 
to be able to talk of — people — ” He spoke 
frankly, fearing that she might be hurt by his 
ignorance of her existence. “You are stopping 
off at Elmville now, madam?” 

“I am to be a visitor at your house,” said the 
little lady, brightly. “Your mother will not 


THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 


55 


mind very much, I hope. She has ever been 
noted for her hospitality.’' 

^‘My mother!” Austin looked out of the 
window, a mist covering his eyes. “I have just 
been summoned home from school. My mother 
is ill.” 

*‘I11?” queried the lady, and a strange gleam 
flashed across her face. “111? That is unfortu- 
nate. But it may be nothing serious.” 

“My mother would not send for me if it were 
nothing serious,” said Austin. The inflection on 
the pronoun told his listener at once in what 
regard this son held his mother. She said no 
more then, and when afterward she tried to 
engage him in conversation she found him un- 
responsive. For every mile that brought him 
nearer home woke a thousand new fears in his 
aching breast. 

His father was waiting for him at the station. 
One glance at his face and Austin’s heart seemed 
to stand still. His pale lips could barely frame 
the words that sprang to them. 

“She is dead, father — mother is dead!” 

“No, lad— not yet. But she is dying.” 

The boy clasped his father’s arm tightly, trying 
to gather his wits, to preserve some semblance of 


56 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


coolness. And then, at that instant, the little 
lady in black stepped up between the two and 
held out her gloved hand. 

“Alfred,” she said, “you remember me, I 
hope?” 

Dr. Mansfield stared into her face. His own 
had been drawn and haggard enough before, but 
now Austin, gazing upon it, saw something 
strange in that countenance. He could not ana- 
lyze it — his own thoughts were too confused. 
But a new father seemed to be standing before 
him — a man who needed help and strength and 
courage — a man he did not know. 

“Christine!” muttered the doctor, “you? What 
are you doing here?” 

“I anticipated your message,” she answered, 
smiling. “ I knew you were about to send for me 
— I have heard of Juliet’s illness. Let me be of 
service to you if I can.” 

“You, you?” he said again. He seemed like 
one stupefied. Austin turned away a little 
impatiently. 

“Come, father, let us hasten,” he said. 

“Yes, yes,” said Dr. Mansfield. He seemed to 
waver. Then he glanced at Christine Verney. 
“You are coming with — us?” he faltered. 


THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 57 

*^With pleasure,” she answered. A feeling of 
disgust arose in Austin’s heart. He had not 
liked this woman at the start, but now that 
nameless something in his father’s manner, 
her own self-assurance, her utter disregard of the 
terrible trouble which brooded above their home, 
antagonized him. He said no word during the 
homeward drive; his father said nothing, either, 
but, as they neared the house, he began to excuse 
his silence. 

“I understand,” said Miss Verney, quietly. 
“Do not imagine that I am here at all, Alfred. 
At such a time all outside interests must be for- 
gotten.” 

The doctor’s face brightened. Her tones were 
sympathetic, and at that moment, when all the 
things that made his life worth living seemed 
slipping away from him, he was glad to receive 
sympathy, no matter what its source. When 
they reached the house, he gave a few directions 
to the old servant, who took Miss Verney away 
with her. Austin sought his mother. 

Mrs. Mansfield was in great pain, but fully 
conscious. At the door Rose Naughton met the 
tall youth who had always seemed like her own 
child, and welcomed him, putting one arm about 


58 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


his shoulders as she drew him to his mother^s 
bedside. The beautiful blue-gray eyes looked up 
at him from the pillow. Austin had never been 
in the presence of death, but now he knew that 
this was death, and that it had come to take from 
him the one he loved best on earth. His heart 
seemed to burst. He fell on his knees; not a 
sound escaped his lips — neither moan nor sob 
nor sigh. He knelt there, his arms clasped about 
her, his bosom heaving, his warm boyish lips upon 
her cold ones. 

“My sweetheart, my precious!’^ she murmured. 
“My boy, my boy!’' 

“Don’t, mother,” he whispered, “don’t talk to 
me — it will kill me if you talk to me.” 

“ I can not — say much,” she murmured. “ Rose 
will tell you all. Love Rose, dear. Sho has been 
my truest friend.” 

He said no word. 

“You have not discovered your vocation yet, 
darling?” 

“No, mother — not yet. But it is not — for the 
priesthood.” 

“I did not think it was. I shall pray for you, 
beloved, I shall pray. God will permit me, my 
own love. I have tried to do His will — He has 


THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 


59 


been so good to me. I asked but to see you 
grown, to see you at school, to see you as you are. 
Oh, my dear boy, rejoice that God has been so 
good to me.” 

Falteringly every word issued from her white 
lips. 

*‘Your father — dear, he will need you — try to 
comfort him until the pain grows less. After a 
while — he will not suffer. But you, my son — 
You are my own, heart of my heart — To you I 
will be always living, always with you — ” 

^‘Mother!” he whispered. 

Her head rolled upon his arm. She had kept 
herself alive simply by force of will to feast her 
eyes upon the face of her dear one. And now 
the great shadow of God^s angel crept nearer 
and nearer. 

^‘Say it, Austin, dearest — you remember — ” 

Rose Naughton, from her post at the foot of 
the bed, turned hastily to call Dr. Mansfield. 
He was at the door, and he advanced silently, 
kneeling as Rose Naughton began the litany of 
the dying. The woman's lips moved: 

‘‘May Thy holy and blessed will be done in and 
by me and mine forever in all circumstances, and 
at all times for ever.” 


60 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


And Austin, with a sob in his throat, knew 
what she asked when her eyes turned upon him. 

“ I thank Thee for what Thou gavest, I thank 
Thee for what Thou withholdest, I thank Thee 
for what Thou withdrawest.^ Oh mother, 
mother, my mother!" 

And so came the end. 

Of what followed after, Austin never clearly 
knew. Of what he said or of what they said, or 
what his father did, was a sealed blank. When 
he became conscious of events transpiring about 
him he was seated in the long parlor, in the big 
chair he had always loved, his head buried in his 
hands. It had grown dark. Voices breaking in 
on the silence disturbed him, and brought him to 
his senses; and then he heard the tones of the 
woman whom he had learned to dislike so heartily 
in so brief a space of time. 

“You misjudge me, Alfred," she was saying, 
passionately. “You are cruel to me. Juliet 
never cared for me, but I could not blame her — 
it was your antagonism that prejudiced her — 
yours and that other’s. Be just to me now. Do 
not carry this mistaken notion any further. Let 


THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 


61 


bygones be bygones. We were friends once, and 
you trusted me. Trust me again, dear friend. 
Let me sympathize with you in the great sorrow 
that has come into your life.” 

There was a few moments’ pause. Then 
Austin recognized his father’s tones. 

‘‘It may be that I have misjudged you, Chris- 
tine,” he said, gravely. “And now you come at 
an inopportune time, so that you have awakened 
all my old-time aversion. You come when I am 
shaken, when the prop upon which I leaned — 
even I. whom men consider great — has been 
taken from me, and I can see nothing in the 
future but black despair. Let that future care 
for itself now — I forgive you for anything that 
you have said to hurt me, for anything you have 
done.” 

“Yes,” she answered, in a strangely humble 
voice, “we will start upon that basis, then. 
Some day you will ask me for an explanation and 
I will give it to you. Until then I must rest 
under the cloud of your suspicions. Until then,” 
and there was a sob in her throat, “I shall be 
miserable. Alfred, I — ” 

“Spare me,” said Dr. Mansfield. “I can not 
stand a scene now, Christine. I am too shaken 


62 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


too sorrowful. Let us not speak of this again. 
Your room is comfortable?” 

‘‘ I am very comfortable,” she said, hesitatingly. 
“You will need a head here for a few days. I will 
take charge of the house for you, until you can 
make other arrangements.” 

“As you please,” he said, absently. Austin, 
listening, heard the rustle of skirts, and knew 
then that he and his father were alone — alone 
with their grief. 

He turned his head slightly. 

“Father,” he called, softly. “Father!” 

“My boy! You there?” He advanced toward 
the chair and stood looking down at him. The 
big gray eyes, so like the dead woman’s, stared 
up into his own. A groan burst from him. “ My 
boy! My poor, poor boy!’’ 

In that moment father and son crept closer 
together than they had ever done. The shrinking, 
the dread, had left the older man’s countenance — 
the expression that Austin could not read and yet 
which had filled him with a certain amount of 
fear. It was the father he knew, but softer now, 
sympathetic, even tender. A common sorrow 
enveloped them. 

“Why didn’t you tell me before, father?” 


THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR, 63 

asked the lad. only you had said something 
— the blow would not have been so heavy, so — ” 

“My dear son, I never knew it,” said the 
father, earnestly. “Not once have I heard a 
word of this until she fell upon the sofa yesterday. 
She had been in apparently perfect health. Yet 
at times her suffering must have been intense. 
I was stunned when I discovered the full horror of 
it — stunned so that I seem even now in a frightful 
dream, in which I keep asking myself if I will not 
soon waken, and find it but a nightmare. I can 
not comprehend it, son, I can not.” 

With whatever burden which had pressed him 
down lifted from his shoulders. Dr. Mansfield had 
time to yield to his sorrow. His personal fears 
had evidently been removed, and he had naught 
to engross his thoughts but the calamity which 
had fallen upon his household. And Austin 
needed a man's sympathy just then. Mrs. 
Naughton was too like his mother, and when she 
gathered him in her arms and sobbed over him, 
his heart seemed mounting in his throat to 
strangle him. As for Vera, it seemed almost as 
much her affliction as his. She had not been able 
to recover from the shock any more than he. So 
now when Dr. Mansfield spoke, Austin felt that 


64 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


for the first time there was some one who under- 
stood aright. 

In silence they sat for a long time, taking 
courage and strength from each other’s compan- 
ionship, talking of the dead wife and mother 
huskily and tenderly, with a sob in the throat. 
Bonds were forged between them then that were 
to last. Afterward, though Austin disapproved 
of many of his father’s actions, his disapproval 
was tinged by a sort of pity. He did not yet 
realize what was missing in that father’s nature, 
an element that the wife had supplied, a lack that 
she had hidden from every one in the world. 
But he did realize that the man had loved her in 
his own fashion, and that she was more to him 
than ever he could be to her. So, for the sake 
of that love and that loss, he turned to him, 
revealing part of that nature which the mother 
had helped to cultivate, revealing the depths of 
what was destined to be a noble character. 

It was Rose Naughton who prepared the body 
of her dead friend for burial, performing for her 
the last services that she could render her on 
earth. She was alone, for Vera had become so 
unstrung by the death of the woman whom she 
had loved and who had so loved her, that the 


THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 


65 


mother had bidden her husband to take her 
home and keep her there. Highstrung, nervous, 
tender-hearted, and capable of deep attachment, 
the girl just budding into womanhood felt things 
more deeply than most girls of her age could. 
Even her father’s attentive solicitude could not 
efface that scene, nor the remembrance of Mrs. 
Mansfield’s face as she had fallen upon the sofa, 
her hand gripping her heart. She woke up at 
night from fitful slumber, trembling with fright, 
and sobbing bitterly. 

All the time that Rose Naughton could spare 
from the afflicted household she devoted to her 
daughter. Vera begged to be permitted to say 
good-by to the one so dear to her before she was 
placed in the grave. Greatly distressed, Mrs. 
Naughton sought Father Barry. 

^^She is unstrung now,” she said, “and I fear 
the effects of this upon her. We have always 
kept anything of this sort away from her, knowing 
her temperament. And now. Father, I am at a 
loss what to do.” 

The good priest listened thoughtfully. 

“I will go with her,” he said, then. “It may 
be better to permit Vera to see Mrs. Mansfield as 
she appears now— for if ever a- human body looked 


66 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


as if the soul that had once inhabited it is happy, 
the body of Juliet Mansfield does. Yes, let her 
go — it will do less harm than if she does not go." 

The outcome proved that he was right. F ather 
Barry met Vera as she was walking slowly through 
the pretty lane that led to the Mansfield home- 
stead from the Naughton place — the lane that she 
had been wont to tread so merrily. He looked 
at the girbs face. It was pale, and there were 
heavy rings under the soft brown eyes. 

“Why, little girl, you seem ill," he said. 
“What is the matter?" 

She shook her head — the lump that rose in her 
throat at his kind words prevented an answer. 

“You are fretting?" he pursued. “And whyf 
When you should be rejoicing." 

“Rejoicing, Father!" 

“Rejoicing, my dear child. You do not knov 
more than God, I am sure — and when God sees 
fit to take home to Him one of His own saints, 
what right has any of us to protest? Rejoice, 
indeed — for at last she knows what peace is and 
ease from pain." 

Vera glanced at him quickly, but did not 
speak. 

^‘You will know better what I mean when you 


THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. 


67 


see her/^ he continued, gently. “Her husband 
and her son were very dear to her, child, and they 
will miss her a thousand times more than you, 
who have your own loving father and mother to 
be grateful for. Yet not even to ease their 
suffering would she return, little girl. So try to 
cheer up — it will not help Austin any if you 
grieve in this fashion. And surely that is one of 
the best things we can do — ease the sufferings 
of those we love on earth, and pray for those who 
have gone before.” 

He spoke so quietly, with such calmness, that 
the trouble in Vera’s young soul seemed to 
lighten. It lightened still further when she 
stood with him beside the dead form of Juliet 
Mansfield and looked down at the gentle face, 
white but peaceful, with the placid mouth and 
smooth forehead. Gazing, Vera seemed to under- 
stand that that face had never seemed peaceful or 
placid before — it was her dear friend’s counte- 
nance baptized with an absolute happiness. She 
knelt then to pray for the soul of her who, she 
felt, needed few prayers. Vera Naughton, care- 
fully shielded all her young life from any of life’s 
problems, growing up like a sweet flower, care- 
fully trained to yield the graces of a gracious 


68 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


womanhood, felt that the childish part of her 
died as she looked upon Juliet Mansfield’s face. 
She and Austin were no longer to be the children 
of olden days. They were a young man and 
young woman now, and as such would view each 
other with more thoughtful, more critical, if 
not less loving eyes. They would love each 
other now as brother and sister love, unless it so 
chanced that God destined them for a more 
tender relation. 

As she left the room, her warm young lips 
chilled from contact with those cold and un- 
responsive ones — a contact, however, that had 
not saddened her — she met Dr. Mansfield, who 
was about to enter. He put his hand upon her 
shoulder. 

“The dear child!” he said, almost affection- 
ately. “She feels it as badly as any of us. 
Father.” 

Vera gazed up at him, quickly, longing to say 
something that would show her true sorrow, 
touched at the tremor in his voice. But when 
she looked into his face the old constraint closed 
about her, and she could say nothing. She had 
never liked Dr. Mansfield— she liked him less now, 
she felt — and then chided herself for her wilful 


THE MtSTERIOVS VlStTOR. 


69 


antagonism toward the one who had been loved 
so fondly by her second mother. 

‘^Austin would surely like to see you/^ con- 
tinued the doctor, in his low, modulated tones; 
why not go in to him, Vera?^^ 

“Yes, sir, I will,” she answered. 

“Not now — it will be better for both if they 
wait,” said Father Barry, with a warning glance 
at the physician. “It could only be distressing. 
Wait until — after to-morrow. Come with me, 
Vera — I promised your mother that you would 
not stay over a half-hour.” 

And with his hand on the little girl’s shoulder. 
Father Barry turned away. 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 




CHAPTER V. 

A CLASH AND A DECISION 

Mrs. Mansfield was buried the following 
day, and gradually things assumed their usual 
basis in the pleasant homestead. Christine 
Verney, who had kept herself in the background, 
respectful and obliging, yet showing even then a 
marked spirit of orderliness, seemed, within a 
week, gradually to slip into Mrs. Mansfield’s 
place. The servant was instructed to go to her 
for orders, and while Miss Verney was considerate 
and just enough, Mary, used to Mrs. Mansfield, 
her pleasant smile and happy disposition, did not 
like her. The rumor had crept about that she 
was a relative of Dr. Mansfield’s, summoned to 
his side at the death of his wife. As such Mary 
stood in awe of her, and obeyed her with docility; 
the doctor, on his part, was civil, but nothing more. 

Austin could not conquer that first serious 
dislike. He did his very best to treat her with 
courtesy, but he avoided her whenever it was 
possible to do so. Again and again she strove 
to entice him into conversation, to discover his 


A CLASH AND A DECISION, 71 

likes and dislikes, to win his regard. But the 
boy could not care for her — it was impossible, he 
told himself. He was suffering keenly, then, 
longing to go back to college. At every turn he 
was reminded of the absent one — the one who 
was never to return. 

He was writing something of this to Gregory 
Sharpe, who had already sent him a letter of 
heartfelt sympathy. He was trying to describe 
the desolate sense, the lack of homelikeness now 
about the place that had been so dear. And as 
he wrote, the bitter tears filled his eyes, and the 
sheet of paper fluttered from under his fingers 
into the waste-basket, while for a brief instant he 
bowed his head upon his outstretched arm. 
Only for an instant. His mother, he knew, 
would not have wished him to give way in this 
fashion, so with a sigh he pulled himself together 
and took up the sheet from the basket, picking up 
with it another sheet just below, on which some 
words were scribbled. He did not know that he 
was reading them until the words sunk into his 
brain: 

** . . . . now employ different tactics. 

Of course her death made a change, and gave me 
an opportunity which I grasped at once. Bully- 


72 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


ing was no longer necessary, and in the end you 
will see that things will turn out much better than 
I ever dreamed of. The boy is his mother over 
again — but as he returns to college almost at 
once, I shall not have — 

Austin read and re-read the lines, a puzzled 
frown on his forehead. Who could have written 
these words? Why did his thoughts revert 
instantly to Miss Verney, and his suspicions of 
her awaken with redoubled force? He threw the 
paper from him as if it were some poisonous 
insect, and grasping his own letter in his hand 
left the room. He was too shaken to finish it 
but sought his father at once. 

should like to go back to college to-morrow, 
sir,’^ he said. ‘‘I can not stay here any longer 
than that.^’ 

“ I had intended asking you if you cared to go 
to-morrow,’^ said Dr. Mansfield, glancing up at 
him. “But you look disturbed, Austin. What 
is the matter ?^^ 

“ I can not bear that Miss Verney he burst out. 

Dr. Mansfield sprang to his feet, an expression 
of alarm on his countenance. 

“Miss Verney? What do you mfean? What 
has she been saying? What has she told you?” 


A CLASH AND A DECISION. 


73 


Austin stood transfixed. He knew now what 
the look on his father^s face signified. Fear! He 
was afraid! His father was afraid! 

“Don’t stare at me like that/’ said Dr. Mans- 
field. “ I want to know at once — ” 

“Nothing, father — I don’t like her, that’s all. 
She and I could never get along. Do you intend 
to keep her here?” 

“For the present, yes.” 

Austin wavered. 

“Father, would you not be too lonely here — 
without mother now and without me? If you 
would consider it,” he continued, “I would 
like to study medicine under your tuition for 
the next few years. I could finish then — 
when affairs would have straightened themselves 
out.” 

Dr. Mansfield looked at him keenly. 

“What put this idea into your head?” 

“Perhaps my mother,” said the boy, with 
some emotion, and the father turned away 
hastily, to hide his own. “Things will change so. 
John Naughton’s mine will spoil this part of 
Elmville — you will have to sell, anyhow, and 
move further out. You will probably have a 
larger practice, with all the people coming in, and 


14 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

will need an assistant. Wouldn't you rather I 
helped you than a stranger?” 

Dr. Mansfield looked thoughtful. He had 
recovered himself a little. 

“Sit down, Austin. Let us talk the thing 
over,” he said. 

Austin drew a chair to the table. 

“Your mother told me more than once 
that you had no inclination toward my 
profession.” 

“I had not,” said Austin. “But somehow, 
since she is gone, everything seems different. I 
feel older, more responsible. I’m not a boy now. 
Mother was so much to us both that I don’t 
think that I can ever realize her loss — and no one 
can ever take her place. For that reason I 
would like to stay with you, if you want me. 
Build a big house somewhere out in the suburbs. 
Mary was mother’s right hand — she will know 
how to run it for us. And I would ask you to 
send that Miss Verney home, father. There’s 
something about her — something wrong, I am 
afraid, something underhand, I am positive.” 

“You must have a reason for speaking like 
this,” said Dr. Mansfield. 

“My own intuitions, first, and — ” 


A CLASH AND A DECISION. 76 

Dr. Mansfield swung around in his chair 
quickly. 

“What is it, Austin? You have heard — ” 

“No, father. I didn’t hear anything. What 
is there for me to hear?” 

“Nothing,” answered the elder man. Austin 
rose to his feet. 

“I’ll show you the other reason — the only 
reason, father, which seemed to confirm my 
intuitions.” 

He left the room, intending to go into the 
pretty apartment which his mother had given 
over to the use of letter-writing, of reading, 
comfortably stretched on one of the big lounges or 
in an easy chair, or where she sometimes brought 
her embroidery frame, and listened to him as he 
read aloud and she worked. Her suffering — so 
well concealed, so nobly borne — had never 
interfered with her pleasure in her boy’s society. 

Dr. Mansfield did not follow his son. He was 
sitting with his fingers clenched tightly together, 
waiting his return. Whatever it was that this 
man feared, it was enough to cause him great 
concern. He looked, even now, as if Austin’s 
speech had shaken him. This week had restored 
his lost confidence, and brought back a little 


76 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

of the pompousness which was his chief charac- 
teristic. Yet suddenly, and at Austin’s words, 
both confidence and pompousness deserted him. 
Again that furtive expression crept into his eyes, 
and he sat like a man on whom a heavy blow 
was about to fall. 

Austin was not long away, but to the father 
it seemed like hours. When the boy turned into 
the “den,” as they had always called it, he 
found it already occupied. Miss Verney was 
standing' at the table, leaning against it, and 
Rose Naughton, with an agitated countenance, 
had her hand upon the knob. She was about to 
withdraw, but Austin caught her arm. 

“Don’t go yet, Mrs. Naughton, and I will 
go back with you,” he said — “but what is 
the matter? You seem upset. Has anything 
happened?” 

“Nothing, dear Austin — nothing,” said Rose. 
“I will go outside and wait for you. Vera has 
sent you a message. But I must go, my dear boy, 
I must really go.” 

“Mrs. Naughton has been hearing some un- 
pleasant truths — your dear mother, and she and I 
— even I, unworthy as I am,” Miss Verney bowed 
mockingly, “were school friends at one time.” 


A CLASH AND A DECISION. 


77 


'^School associates/^ said Rose Naughton, 
turning abruptly. “There is a distinction, re- 
member, Christine. You and I were never 
friends.^^ 

“Pardon me — Juliet and I were intimates, 
then,’^ said Miss Verney. “But for the miserable 
tale-bearing and jealousy that served to part us.” 

“Please spare me,” said Rose Naughton. Her 
brown eyes sparkled, and her small figure was 
drawn erect. “Juliet was my dearest friend — I 
her only bosom friend. She loved me as she 
never loved another girl or woman of her ac- 
quaintance. What happened to sever even your 
relations with her, you know. I shall not repeat 
it. But it is sufficient to cause me to leave this 
house, not to re-enter it while you remain here. 
I endured your presence while I could be of 
service to my friend. She no longer needs me, 
and I go.” 

“Mrs. Naughton!” exclaimed Austin, “do you 
know what you are saying? Y ou to leave here — ” 

“Yes,” said Miss Verney. She spoke in the 
same low, quiet tones, but there was a hard ring 
to them now; “she to leave here — and at once. 
At once. Rose Naughton!” 

Austin stood dumfounded. 


78 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


“This lady was dear to my mother as a sister; 
she is my father’s friend. And you order her 
from the house — ” he ejaculated. 

“She to-day and you to-morrow — what differ- 
ence will it make to you then, my lad?” asked Miss 
Verney, coolly. 

“You are mistaken — I do not go to-morrow. 
I am to remain and study medicine under my 
father,” said Austin, hotly. “Pardon me if I 
am discourteous to a lady, but I fail to compre- 
hend the source of your authority. I shall 
speak to my father at once. If you wait for me 
outside, Mrs. Naughton, I shall be very glad to 
walk home with you.” 

He left the room hurriedly and went to his 
father. Breathless with angry emotion, he burst 
in upon him. 

“Father! Miss Verney has ordered Mrs. 
Naughton to leave the house! Mrs. Naughton, 
father!” 

The doctor sprang to his feet, too startled to 
grasp the sense of the boy’s speech. 

“What do you say, Austin?” 

The boy repeated his words. He was passion- 
ately angry. 

“She to-day and I to-morrow! That’s what 


A CLASH AND A DECISION. 


79 


she said, father! How dare she take such a 
liberty? What is she to us that — ” 

“Austin, sit down — get your breath. What in 
the world is the use of giving way like this? Be 
reasonable. I will have a talk with Miss Verney 
afterward. Such a course is absurd. There is 
an excuse for it, however. Mrs. Naughton and 
she and your dear mother knew one another 
in their younger days and there was some trouble, 
for which Christine always blamed Rose. How- 
ever, this is my house, and she has merely the 
right of sufferance here. Sit down, boy. Where 
is the proof you were talking of — which you left 
the room to fetch me?’' 

“I forgot it,” said Austin. His father’s cool 
sentences calmed him. “It was a scrap of paper 
I found in the waste-basket. I do not know that 
it was written by Miss Verney, but you did not 
write it and I did not write it, and there is no one 
else.” 

“You can not remember what was in it?” 

“ Not very well, father. It made me too angry. 
But there was something about mother’s death 
giving greater opportunity, and bullying was 
no longer necessary. The boy — meaning me, I 
suppose — was going back to college.” 


80 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


“What else?’^ 

“That’s all, father.” 

“Um-m-m-m.” He tapped with his fingers on 
the desk and frowned. He felt that he had a 
position to maintain before his son, and despite 
his fear of Christine Verney, his vanity prompted 
him to assume a self-possessed air — easy 
enough because of the sense of relief that filled 
him. “I shall attend to the matter, my boy — 
you may leave everything to me.” He glanced 
up, smiling. “You are satisfied to do that, 
Austin?” 

“Oh, yes, sir — you don’t blame me for being 
angry, father?” he continued, with an anxious 
expression. 

“Blame you? It was but natural — I would 
not blame you even if you were in the wrong. 
What did you say to Miss Verney?” 

“I said very little, father, thinking you would 
prefer to do it. I simply told her when she 
remarked ‘Mrs. Naughton goes to-day, and I — 
meaning me — to-morrow’ — that I was to remain 
at home with you to study medicine, and that in 
regard to Mrs. Naughton I would see you at once.” 

“That was very good, son — I shall attend to it 
now. Where are you going?” 


A CLASH AND A DECISION. 


81 


“To the Naughton place — Mrs. Naughton is 
waiting for me.” 

“Very well. Meanwhile I shall see Miss 
Verney — and ponder carefully over your future 
and the conversation we have had in regard to it. 
It is an important step, my lad. You consider 
it well, also, and we^ll talk it over again to-night.” 

“Yes, father,” said Austin. He stood a mo- 
ment. He wanted to say something else — to 
voice the feeling that was surging within him — 
the feeling that if he and his father were not 
bound together to fight the world or make the 
world their friend, he would be utterly desolate, 
utterly alone. He could not tell why this impulse 
moved him. The bond that held them together 
seemed in danger, there was a barrier between 
them, and Austin, with his straightforward, 
frank nature could not tell why or wherefore. So 
he stood, but there came no encouragement from 
the thoughtful man seated at the table. Austin 
turned with a sigh. It would always be this way, 
he told himself. The link that bound them had 
been severed and they would gradually become 
estranged. 

Rose Naughton took note of his sad counte- 
nance as he walked out to join her. She did not 


82 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


know what had passed between his father and 
himself, but the sorrowful expression on his face 
wrung her gentle heart. She could only feel that 
her dear Juliet’s son was unhappy, and that she 
could not make him happy — that his life was to 
be a changed one from thenceforth, and that no 
living being could make up to him the loss he 
had sustained. In the tenderness of her soul 
she began to speak of the mine, and tell of her 
husband’s prospects. But Austin could not 
listen with attention, although he tried. At 
length he turned to her, with a smile of apology. 

“Dear Mrs. Naughton, I can’t hear a thing you 
are saying. I am too full of this trouble of mine. 
Won’t you tell me what you know of the affair? 
What hold has Miss Verney on my father? Why 
is he afraid of her?” 

Rose Naughton looked astonished. 

“Afraid of her?” she ejaculated. “There you 
touch a matter on which I am totally ignorant. 
I can tell you, if you will, the reason of her 
enmity toward me. I do not want to hurt any 
one, but it is hard feeling from the days of our 
girlhood. It was when Dr. Mansfield first tried 
to make Juliet — your mother — care for him. 
There was trouble then. She went out of her way 


A CLASH AND A DECISION. 


83 


deliberately to lie about my friend and I simply 
forced her to swallow the lie, for Julie was 
too proud to defend herself. It was a foolish 
thing, then, that might yet have made a big 
difference in the fate of your father and mother, 
for Julie never would condescend to explain, and 
the doctor would not ask for an explanation, 
being equally as proud as she. I — forgive this 
plain speaking now, Austin — did not like Dr. 
Mansfield, but it would have been most unjust to 
both of them, especially when they cared so for 
each other, not to assist him when it lay in my 
power. The matter itself, Austin, was almost 
trivial, as I have said, but the consequences 
would have been distressing.” 

“Did my mother like her — that woman — 
before?” asked Austin, in a low voice. 

“She treated her kindly — most kindly,” said 
Rose Naughton. “Too kindly, as events proved. 
Your mother was very good to her; indeed I often 
wondered at her generosity. She was paid back 
with ingratitude — and even then saw to it that 
Christine did not suffer until she was on her feet 
again — but there! Juliet would not have me 
speak of her good works even to her own son, I 
know. The whole upshot of the thing was this. 


84 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


my dear Austin: Christine wanted to marry 
Alfred Mansfield. And he wanted to marry 
Juliet. Christine tried to shape things to suit 
herself, and the unfortunate friend — myself — just 
happened to circumvent her. Not that I think 
she loved him, Austin, nor do I imagine that she 
really knew how very much in love both your 
father and mother were then. We must give her 
the benefit of the doubt.” 

Austin put his hand on his friend’s arm. 

“She wanted to marry my father then?” 
he asked. He laughed — a laugh that was 
too bitter for Juliet Mansfield’s son. “I see, 
now.” 

And then he told Rose Naughton of the 
happenings of that day — of his father’s conversa- 
tion — of the scrap of paper. 

“She wanted to marry my father then,” he 
repeated. “Listen, Mrs. Naughton. I am pos- 
itive of one thing. I will go back to college — and 
she will marry my father now. ” 

“Hush!” said Rose Naughton, shocked beyond 
measure. “Don’t even breathe of such a sacri- 
lege, Austin. Christine Verney in my Julie’s 
place — dear Heaven forbid that anything like 
that could happen!” 


A CLASH AND A DECISION. 


85 


^‘Mrs. Naughton, she has some hold on my 
father — he is afraid of her/^ 

Nonsense, boy. Why, he has never seen her, 
never mentioned her name in over twenty-five 
years, I am positive. She had gone altogether 
out of his existence, until this happened. She 
came when she heard of Julie’s death, didn’t she?” 

And then she paused in her walk, a frown form- 
ing between her brows. Her mind went back to 
that bedside. “This woman hounding me — and 
without you!” had been Dr. Mansfield’s words. 
He had been shaken out of his composure, out 
of his pomposity then — and she remembered the 
despair on his face, the pity on Juliet’s. 

“Your word against hers,” she had told him. 
Truly had the courage of life gone out of the 
doctor’s soul when that better half of him was 
taken from his side. Well might Juliet say 
“Poor Alfred!” and dread less to leave her son 
than her husband — for that son was her noble, 
resolute self over again. 

That evening when Austin, cheered in spite of 
himself by the perfect sympathy of his friends, 
reached home, his father met him. 

“Well, my boy — and have you enjoyed your- 
self?^^ 


86 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

“I always like to visit the Naughtons/^ he 
answered. we dine early this evening, 

father?’^ For since his mother’s death they had 
eaten their meals in a haphazard fashion — in 
spite of orderly Miss Verney, and Mary’s attempts 
at punctuality. 

“At the usual hour this evening — at seven,” 
said the doctor. “And, Austin?” 

“Yes, father?” 

“Miss Verney dines with us.” 

Austin’s heart gave a great bound, and then 
seemed to stand still. 

“Father?” 

“I said that Miss Verney would dine with us.” 

“I heard you, sir.” The words came in a 
husky whisper from the boy’s throat. “I — do 
you mind if eat in my own room to-night? 
Mary will give me something.” 

“Not at all — eat there if you choose. And — er 
— I have decided that you will go back to 
college.” 

“Yes, father.” He was moving away — but 
now the emotion that filled him overpowered him. 
He turned around, and the older man quailed 
before the blaze of those gray-blue eyes. “'Has 
Miss Verney decided what train I am to take in 


A CLASH AND A DECISION. 87 

the morning — or am I left to choose that much 
myself?’^ 

“That will do, Austin, said Dr. Mansfield, 
coldly. “You do not like Miss Verney — that is 
evident. But I must have some one here to 
attend to the affairs of the household, and I 
would rather have one who was so deeply at- 
tached to your dead mother. Besides that, she 
is an old friend of mine, as well, and I do not like 
strangers. She is a settled woman and a sensible 
one, I take it, and will, with Mary’s assistance, 
help to fill the great gap which can never 
be filled— as she herself asserts, and as I 
believe. 

“Father,” said Austin, in a strangely quiet 
tone, “I do not wish to be disrespectful — since 
my mother would certainly disapprove of it, and 
I will not displease her dead any more than I 
could hurt her living. But I am not a fool — I am 
eighteen years old and have a thinking head on 
my shoulders. You can not disguise the fact 
from me that you stand in fear of Miss Verney — 
that she has you in her power, and that she is 
concealing a hand of iron in a velvet glove, and 
giving you orders under the semblance of good 
advice. I can only ask you, sir, what my mother 


88 


THE TEST OF COURAGE, 


would have said to such a course — and wish you 
good night.” 

He turned quickly and went up the stairs at a 
bound. The allusion to his mother — the many 
different ways in which he had spoken her dear 
name that day — had, on each occasion hurt him 
bitterly. Now the tears that had been burning 
within him sprang in a blinding volume to his 
eyes. Not for worlds would he have even his 
father see them. He knew they were not weak- 
ling tears, nor the tears of unmanly youth. Not 
because he feared they were either did he wish 
to conceal them. But they were sacred. They 
were the holy outpouring of his afflicted soul, 
the yearning within his heart given visible outlet. 

He spent the remainder of that night lying 
face downward on his pillow. It was the last 
night he gave to his great sorrow. After this 
night it was ever a sweet memory — sweet because 
of its bitterness, and strong because it seemed to 
test his courage and found it not wanting. 


AUSTIN’S RETURN. 


89 


CHAPTER VI. 

AUSTIN^S RETURN. 

“Well, mother/^ and John Naughton heaved 
a sigh of contentment, as he sat down to the 
pleasant dinner-table, “iPs all over.” 

Rose Naughton, from her place at the other end 
of the table lifted her brown eyes with a question 
in them — a question that was not without its 
apprehension. 

“Settled, John? In what way? Vera, darling, 
pass your father the carving-knife. John, if you 
please. In what way is it settled, dear?’^ 

“The sale of the Veronica mine is at last ar- 
ranged for. The Berriman Syndicate have writ- 
ten that my terms are satisfactory, and nothing 
remains now but to close with them, sign the 
necessary papers, pack a few household treasures, 
shut up shop, and away with us to foreign lands. 
How’s that, Vera?” 

Vera smiled gleefully at him — then turned to her 
mother. Rose Naughton had fallen back in her 
chair, and now looked steadily at her husband. 


90 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


“John! There is no uncertainty now — you 
are positive?” 

“Yes, my dear — here's the letter from the 
Berriman people themselves, and I'm going to 
the city to-morrow, see Planck, and fix — Why, 
mother, what's the matter — whatever is the 
matter, little woman? '' 

He sprang to his feet, overturning his chair in 
his haste to reach his wife's side. For when he 
reiterated his statement, the tears gushed from 
her eyes and she covered her face with her hands. 
The long waiting and the anxiety she had endured 
overcame her, and she broke down. 

John Naughton took her in his arms fondly and 
whispered consoling words to her, while Vera, 
with parted lips, stood resting one hand on the 
table, staring at her mother, anxious-eyed, won- 
dering, sympathetic, but feeling that her father 
could do more to soothe that painful outburst 
than she. 

“Oh, John — don't mind me,” said Rose, after 
a little; “I am unstrung, I suppose, and I have 
waited so long, and been so fearful — '' 

“Now, Rose, now, my dear!” he expostulated. 
“How foolish — what absurdity!” 

“Oh, you don't know, you don't know!” she 


AUSTIN'S RETURN. 


91 


said. “ It has made me heartsick. The mortgage 
unsatisfied, and all your ambitions centered on 
the thing, and nothing between us and poverty — 
penniless poverty, John — if our schemes failed. 
Oh, you don't know how it has made me 
suffer." 

‘^Rose!" said John Naughton, in a shaking 
voice. “Don't! I would have sold the thing a 
year ago, rather than give you one night's worry." 

“John, dear, I know that," she said. “But 
I could not dampen your enthusiasm, or let you 
know that my hopes were not as confident as 
yours — I could not. You had no one to encourage 
you only me. I had to be brave for you, dear. 
Especially has it afflicted me since — " 

“Since what, Rose?" 

“Since Christine Verney came to Elmville. 
John, she hates me and would do all she could to 
hurt me, for she is unscrupulous. Dearest, this 
morning I heard — Oh, John, think what I have 
heard! Christine and Dr. Mansfield were married 
yesterday! " 

“ Good heavens ! " said John Naughton. “Mar- 
ried! Mansfield married!" 

He released her, standing with open mouth, 
in blank astonishment. 


92 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


Mansfield! And his wife — and such a wife! — 
dead but six months! Rose, are you sure?^^ 

“ Oh, yes,” she said, “ and I knew what it would 
mean. John, Dr. Mansfield will foreclose now 
as sure as he is Dr. Mansfield.” 

*‘Rose— ” 

*‘Sell,” she said, quickly. ^‘Go to-moriow, 
settle this affair at once — get rid of the Veronica 
mine, if you get but half what you ask for it. I 
have the most terrible premonition of something 
happening to you because of this. I wish,” she 
ended vigorously, wish with all my heart that 
you had never made the discovery.” 

She had recovered herself by this time; the 
tears were dry and her eyes looked up at him 
with pleading in their depths. He made a 
gesture with his hand, and shrugged his 
shoulders. 

“Who told you — they were married?” he 
asked, quietly. 

“Father Barry.” 

“He married them?” 

“Yes. They procured a dispensation from the 
calling of the banns and were married last night. 
They asked him then to give out the information 
gradually. I happened to stop at the rectory 


AUSTIN’S RETURN. 


93 


to-day, and Margaret told me the news. I all but 
collapsed. 

Small wonder,” said John Naughton. And 
then, “Poor Austin! Poor lad!” 

An expression of sorrow swept across Rose 
Naughton’s countenance. 

“Juliet’s darling! He will suffer keenly when 
he hears. But I doubt if it will surprise him. 
He told me that something like this would happen 
when he left for college last year.” 

“How terrible!” said Vera now, who had ap- 
proached her mother and stood beside her chair. 
“Father, when you sell we can leave Elmville, 
can’t we?” 

“Yes, dear, and we will — we will go at once.” 

“Once I thought I could not live if I left Elm- 
ville and Mrs. Mansfield and Austin,” said the 
girl. “But one changes as one grows older. If 
only our Austin need never come back either, 
mother.” 

“It is doubtful if he ever will,” said Rose 
Naughton. And then she looked about her. “A 
nice cold dinner we’ll have in a few moments. 
Let us eat at once — Vera, take these potatoes 
outside and bring in the warm ones — there are 
some in the dish on the back of the stove. For- 


94 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


tunately, that chicken will do as well a little cold, 
so begin to carve, John. We’ll eat to our great 
success and hope that the Veronica mine will 
prosper forever.” 

She looked at them, laughingly, and they 
seconded her endeavors to dismiss the unpleasant- 
ness of a few moments before. After dinner they 
had sufficient time to talk over their own affairs 
and the less pleasing affair of the Mansfields. 

This Vera Naughton was different to the child 
who opened the chapter of this story. At sixteen, 
she retained the prettiness of her childhood days, 
and the year just passed had given character to 
her loveliness. Her sweet mouth, with its red lips 
ever ready to part in a smile, was still a resolute 
mouth; the clear brown eyes were steadfast and 
earnest; the expression of the lovely little face 
was one of ever-present good-humor, and yet it 
was set in resolute lines. She was petite — slender 
as her mother had been at her age, with dainty 
hands and feet. The week previous had seen her 
graduation from high school — and there was 
no need for further schooling, said John Naughton. 
Her education was to be completed by travel, 
the great teacher. Vera, however, was not at all 
like the ordinary girl of sixteen. She had striven 


AUSTIN'S RETURN, 


95 


to make her education a practical one — perhaps 
because of the shadow resting always on her 
mother’s forehead. Everything she learned, she 
learned thoroughly, or with a view to its future 
usefulness, and to make school knowledge useful 
knowledge is one of the things that is seldom 
taught — it can only be acquired after school- 
days are left behind, as many of us have 
learned. 

Up to the time of Juliet Mansfield’s death. Rose 
Naughton had made her her confidante, but after- 
ward she was forced to turn to her little girl. And 
Vera had proven herself nobly. She well knew 
the great and ceaseless worry which her mother 
endured in connection with the unsettled state 
of the Veronica mine. 

That evening, after their meal, the three went 
out to the wide piazza that commanded a view 
of the western horizon, running across the entire 
front of the house and its southern side, and sat 
down to discuss the future which seemed as rosy 
as the beautiful sky before them. Vera N aughton 
placed herself between her two dear ones, her arms 
resting on her mother’s knees, while her lovely 
brown eyes went from her mother’s face to the 
distant sky and then to the father, who, satisfied 


96 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


and content, swung lazily in a big hammock and 
puffed at his pipe. 

Vera laughed a little then, and her mother 
smiled down at her. 

What is it, dear?” she asked. 

Father’s dreams are so different — from this,” 
she said, including the farm, the peaceful sky, the 
low, roomy, comfortable house, in an all-embrac- 
ing wave of the hand. “I can hear him finding 
fault with the skies of Italy because he can not 
sit in a hammock to enjoy them and smoke that 
old pipe of his. Father, as soon as ever we are 
rich, you give me the money, and I’ll buy you a 
new one.” 

The father laughed. This was a standing joke. 
Whenever good fortune was to come their way, 
Vera built hopes upon it of buying her father a 
substitute for the antique specimen of his adora- 
tion which he seemed so thoroughly to enjoy — 
and the odor of which his women-folk almost as 
thoroughly detested, accepting the pipe merely 
because of the owner of it. 

“ I’ll give you all you want, childie, and you can 
buy pipes from now till doomsday. But this 
poor, despised object goes with us to the land of 
art and poetry. I don’t suppose they’ll allow 


AUSTIN'S RETURN. 


97 


me to smoke it in the galleries, but I’ll put it in 
my pocket just the same, and feel of it every once 
in a while to be sure it is sharing my good fortune. 
You wouldn’t have me desert such a friend as this 
has been, eh, lassie?” 

‘^I’m afraid the pipe is part of father’s features, 
now,” said Rose Naughton, with a low laugh. 
^^I’d hardly recognize him if he didn’t have it in 
his mouth.” 

“To-morrow night at this time we’ll know how 
rich we are,” mused Vera. “You’ll help Father 
Barry build the school then, won’t you, father? ” 

“Indeed will I — he can have anything he 
wants,” said the big, generous, warm-hearted man. 
“My price to the Berriman people was $250,000 
and it would be a pity if we couldn’t do something 
for God and His glory out of that. Yes, and we’ll 
endow two beds in that hospital the Sisters in 
Newfields just started — that $10,000 will help 
them along a wee bit, God bless them and the 
work they’re doing. And if there’s anything else 
you want in that line. Rose or Veronica, lassie, 
speak up. Now’s your time — I may change my 
mind when the check is put into my hand.” 

There was a merry twinkle in his eye as he 
spoke. 


98 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


After buying the new pipe, daddy dear, I’ll 
think of some other charity,” laughed Veronica. 
“I’d like to study a little, father — I am not 
satisfied with what I know.” 

“You can study to your heart’s content,” said 
the father, with a laugh. “What do you want 
to study? You sing like a bird, play like an 
artist, and draw — ” 

“Oh, mother, listen! Sing like a bird! Play 
like an artist! F ather, if you ever heard an artist!” 

“My dear, I mightn’t like him half so well. 
The old-fashioned melodies you play are sweeter 
than anything I am not familiar with.” 

“I shall never sing or play well,” said Vera, 
thoughtfully, “but I think I can draw, father. 
I should like to take up drawing and water 
colors, so — ” 

“So what?” asked the father, as she paused. 
She put her head on her mother’s lap. 

“So that if ever we get poor again I could 
teach it — I should like to teach drawing and 
painting. I shall never be a great painter, either,” 
with another laugh, “but I’m sure I could make 
an excellent instructor.” 

“And is that your highest ambition, girlie?” 
asked her mother, gently. 


AUSTIN’S RETURN. 


99 


^‘No/’ said Vera, in a thoughtful tone, “I 
should like to do a great deal of good. I should 
like to do it as Mrs. Mansfield used to — I remem- 
ber how quietly she went about everything, and 
how she used to win people without even trying — 
just because she was so earnest and honest. I 
think that even after reading the life of my 
favorite saint, Teresa, the wonderful, and while 
admiring her with all my heart — I think that 
Mrs. Mansfield was a saint in her own way, 
too.^’ 

“I have no doubt about that,^' said the mother, 
knew her a good many years, my Vera. 
While she was not always the Mrs. Mansfield you 
knew — so quiet and patient — yet she had the 
strictest sense of justice. She could never be 
anything but honest if she tried. As for her 
patience — we were dear friends, indeed, but she 
concealed the fact of her suffering from me 
almost up to the end, as I have told you.” 

^‘It seems strange, doesn’t it, that Christine 
Verney should have carried her point after all,” 
said Mr. Naughton. “She waited twenty-five 
years — but she accomplished it in the end.” 

Rose Naughton’s face clouded. 

“God grant he may never have cause to regret 

LOFC 


100 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


\i” she said, in heartfelt tones; “and that poor 
Austin — 

Mr. Naughton sat up quietly in the hammock 
and putting out his hand touched her knee, 
warningly. 

“Hush, mother!’^ he whispered, “hush! As 
sure as we live and breathe, here comes Austin 
now!’* 

He spoke the truth. A tall, well-developed 
figure came with rapid steps along the road, and 
the farmer’s keen sight enabled him to distin- 
guish those well-known features a good distance 
off. Rose Naughton sat up quietly. Vera 
sprang to her feet. The three stood, a welcoming, 
questioning, startled group, awaiting his approach. 
The shadow did not lift from Rose Naughton’s 
brow, the farmer could not take his gaze from 
that oncoming figure, while Vera, leaning her 
head against the porch pillar, felt the tears rush 
to her eyes in very pity for the heartbreak which 
she knew this latest misfortune would bring upon 
one who was dear to her as any brother could be. 

He lifted the gray-blue orbs that had been bent 
steadily upon the ground, as he turned in at the 
familiar gate, and saw them waiting for him — 
the three that loved him. He took off his hat, 


AUSTIN’S RETURN. 


101 


and so came up to them bareheaded. His face, 
as Rose Naugh ton's loving eyes searched it, was 
white and drawn; his eyes bloodshot; his whole 
attire careless. 

“Austin!" she exclaimed, “Austin, my boy, 
what is the matter?" 

“Nothing very much, I hope," he answered, 
with what he tried to make a nonchalant air. 
“I — I received a telegram last night — supposed 
to be sent from — my father. It — announced — a 
— marriage — " 

His breath came in great, indrawn gasp- 
ings, his fingers clenched and unclenched 
rapidly. 

“You haven't heard anything about it, have 
you?" he asked, looking from one to the other 
with questioning eyes. “And if it were true — 
I suppose you would be the first people to know 
of it?" 

There was something strange in his manner — 
something that sent a thrill of fear through Rose 
Naughton's breast. 

“My lad," she said, softly, “I wish for your 
sake we had not heard." 

He staggered back. 

“You mean it, then? My father is married — 


102 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


and to her? And my mother scarcely cold in her 
grave? 0 God!” 

The holy name parted his lips without irrever- 
ence — it was a petition — a prayer of pain. Vera 
caught at the pillar, and a sob rent her throat. 

“I wanted to come here — first,” he said, after 
a little. “I knew you would tell me the truth. 
Good-night.” 

“Austin!” cried Rose again, “where are you 
going?” 

“To my father,” he said, “to the man who was 
— once my father.” 

“Listen to me — ” 

“I can listen to no one — I shall listen to 
nothing,” he said, between shut teeth. “Not 
until I have spoken to him — and to her.” 

Rose Naughton ran quickly down the piazza 
steps and caught his arm. 

“You must not go — you must not. Not in 
this state, my own boy. Come — come in and let 
us talk to you.” 

He removed her hand gently. 

“Dear Mrs. Naughton, don’t try to prevent 
this now — I will go. I shall see — ” 

“Austin! My Juliet’s son!” 

The words came sobbingly from her lips. He 


AUSTIN'S RETUM. 


103 


hesitated — looked into her imploring countenance. 
Then John Naughton touched Vera’s arm. 

“He needs mother, lassie, and only mother. 
Let us go away a little while.” 


104 


THE TEST OF COVRAGE. 


CHAPTER VII. 

CHANGES. 

With the impetuosity of youth, Austin had 
asked permission to pay a flying visit to his home, 
on receipt of the news which so startled him — 
the terrible — to him — event, which indeed he had 
predicted but which he never actually thought 
would come to pass. It was too frightful a 
calamity. In three years^ time, even five perhaps, 
when that dear memory had grown less keen, it 
would not so have shocked his sensibilities, or 
wounded his young heart. To that shock and 
that pain succeeded a passionate anger. Indeed, 
Austin had never known what an uncontrollable 
temper he possessed until after his mother^s 
death. He had left his home, smarting under a 
bitter blow; he returned to it like a madman. 

It was well for him that he encountered the 
gentle woman so like that other woman gone 
from him forever. It was his good angel who led 
him to the threshold of one who cared for him 
more for his mother’s sake than for his own. In 


CHANGES. 


105 


heartbroken words he poured forth the angry 
mood that was upon him, and she listened quietly, 
with her arm about his shoulders, as his mother 
would have done, her other hand resting upon 
his hand. 

“And what would you do, my dear boy?’^ she 
asked then. “What would happen? You came 
here simply to reproach your father — to hurl the 
memory of his dear lost wife into his teeth — and 
then? Then what, Austin?” 

“I do not know,” he confessed, drearily. “I 
do not know, Mrs. Naughton.” 

“If he had turned on you and faced you with 
bitter words, and you left him hopelessly 
estranged, what then?” 

“ I do not care — he is dead to me.” The words 
came sharply. “My father is no longer what he 
was. I have no father.” 

Rose Naughton sent up an inward prayer for 
help. “Dear Juliet,” she thought, “if you can 
see or know or feel, put into my mouth the words 
that will help this boy of yours.” The pressure 
of her hand upon his tightened then, for he made 
a movement as if about to rise. 

“No, lad — not yet,” she said. “You must 
listen to me. You remember some time ago — 


106 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

when Christine Verney came here first — you 
asked me then, lad, what hold she had upon your 
father. You remember?” 

‘‘Yes,” he said, dully. “I remember.” 

“Well, then, you must think over what I am 
going to say to you. Austin, Dr. Mansfield is not 
the proud and self-possessed physician of your 
mother’s time. He has grown careless — even 
in so short a while as this he has grown careless. 
Careless in his practice, in his attire, with the air 
of one who carries about with him a burden heav- 
ier than he can endure. Austin, never would 
I breathe a word of this if it were not for — your 
coming here — like this. It has hurt us all. We 
know the end. But can you interfere? What 
can you say to prevent this? Nothing — abso- 
lutely nothing. Whatever hold it is that woman 
has upon him, it is one that moves him a puppet 
to her will.” 

“Good Heaven!” breathed Austin, looking up 
into her face with startled eyes. “What are you 
saying, Mrs. Naughton?” 

“The truth — and you must comprehend it, 
dear. I am speaking the truth. To go to your 
father in anger now would perhaps do him a 
great injury.” 


CHANGES. 


167 

'‘He is not ill — ” cried Austin, trembling. 

“No — not physically. But as sure as he lives 
and breathes he is ill mentally — so ill that one's 
heart aches to look at him. Do not go in anger, 
Austin — go as your mother would have gone — in 
pity. Tell him you are his — that he can rely 
upon you — that you will never forget he is your 
father — that your mother loved him — " 

The lump in Rose Naughton's throat choked 
her; the tears were in her eyes. 

“Austin, she did love him, she did indeed, in 
spite of his faults, or perhaps just because of 
them. And he loves her — he loves her still. 
But he was never a strong-willed man, and your 
gentle mother used his vanity to a good end. 
‘My Austin, my own son, I can safely leave — 
for I have had his training,' she said to me on that 
sorrowful day when I first heard of her secret 
illness, ‘but Alfred! Poor, poor Alfred!' Even 
then she realized the loss that she would be to 
him." 

“Oh, Mrs. Naughton, you wake all the old 
pain," said Austin Mansfield, catching his breath 
quickly. “The pain I have tried to live down. 
But believe me, you have helped me. And I 
will not go in anger— I will not go to him with 


108 THE TEST OE COURAGE. 

hot words on my lips. Thank you, thank God, 
that my stumbling feet were drawn first to the 
hearts that loved me. Thank God, thank God!” 

‘'Amen!” whispered Rose Naughton, echoing 
the thanksgiving in her heart. And then: 
“Before you go, dear, you will want to see the 
father and Vera?” 

“Yes,” he answered, “for I will not come back 
again. My permission only holds until to-morrow. 
I have to take the first train in the morning.” 

The sturdy farmer said nothing, but caught 
the young man^s two hands in his and looked 
down from his greater height upon the fair- 
haired young fellow whom he held in such high 
regard. And then came Vera, her brown eyes 
humid with sympathy, her soft lips parted — she, 
too, gave him her hand, but as she raised her 
eyes the words she would have spoken died upon 
her lips. They stood gazing at each other, their 
fingers intertwined, their hearts open, their 
very thoughts written upon their faces. Austin 
saw a new Vera — no longer the child playmate, 
nor the school-girl, but a beautiful maiden 
budding into womanhood. He felt strongly 
drawn to her — a different emotion crept about 
his heart as he looked upon her. 


CHANGES. 


109 


'‘You have changed, too, Vera,” he said — and 
the words conveyed, in a subtle manner, all the 
conflicting thoughts of his mind. She blushed, 
and withdrew her hand. 

“And you are now a man,” she said; “you are 
not the Austin I remember. Yet it is only a short 
while since we saw each other.” She turned to 
her mother. ' ' Have you told him about the mine ?’ ’ 

“No, dear — I had forgotten,” said Mrs. Naugh- 
ton. “The mine is sold, Austin.” 

“Sold?” he glanced at John Naughton. “On 
satisfactory terms?’' 

“On the terms — my terms,” said John Naugh- 
ton, with a laugh. 

“Honestly — at your own price? That’s good 
news, indeed,” said Austin. He sighed. “I 
suppose we separate soon now.” 

“Austin!” exclaimed Rose. “You know 
better.” 

He looked at Vera. 

“At least you will not forget me — your brother, 
Vera,” he said, impulsively. 

“Never, dear Austin,” she answered, in a tone 
as impulsive as his own. “Never — no matter 
where we go or how rich we become, or how poor 


— never. 


110 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


A look of pleasure stole across his face. 

^‘That is a sweet assurance,” he said. “But I 
must go — I can not wait any longer. Father’s 
office hours are, I know, from seven to half past 
eight, and it lacks but twenty minutes of that 
time now. Will you walk across the field with 
me?” he asked them. “It may be for the last 
time. The dear field! There’s very little of the 
old signposts left even now, Mrs. Naughton. 
There will be less when I — when I come home for 
good.” 

“You’re looking on the gloomy side,” said John 
Naughton. “Hope for the best, Austin, hope for 
the best always. That’s what I’ve been doing — 
it hasn’t been easy, but I’ve done it.” 

“Yes,” said Austin, “but you’ve had help. 
I’m alone. You have Mrs. Naughton and Vera. 
I have no one.” 

The four walked across the field, that was 
indeed so soon to be utterly changed, John 
Naughton and his wife together, with Vera and 
Austin behind them. The young people said 
little, but that they found pleasure in each other’s 
society was evident. John Naughton and Rose 
knew this, too, and rejoiced thereat — for what 
man could be worthier of their one blossom than 


CHANGES. 


Ill 


Juliet Mansfield’s son? When they reached the 
road they stood — John Naughton and Rose and 
Vera to go back to the dear old home which they 
were so soon to leave, and Austin to seek his 
father. The young man held Vera’s hand in his. 

‘^Good-by, little sister,” he said huskily. 
“Dear little sister, good-by. And you, my dear 
friends — Pray for me.” 

He wrung their hands in turn. John Naughton, 
with a kindly look in his honest eyes, put his 
other hand upon the young man’s shoulder. 

“I can’t give you better advice than mother, I 
know,” he said. “But don’t lose your faith in 
human nature, boy — suffering is the test of true 
courage.” 

“I know,” said Austin, between his teeth. “I 
— know.” 

And then he stepped away from them and out 
upon the road that led to his father’s house. 

$[: if: ^ 

Above all things Juliet Mansfield had loved a 
cheerful home. At night, especially when the 
evenings grew cool, she would have the lights in 
the front of the house turned on. The parlor 
would be lighted up, and the doctor’s consulting- 
room, and the hall. Her own bedroom, too, 


112 THE TEST OF COVRAGE. 

faced the road, and in this a light was always 
kept burning. 

“I have an idea that if a hungry soul passed 
this way he or she would take courage from the 
light, she was wont to say, ^‘and would not be 
afraid to ask for admittance and food. There is 
something about a well-lighted house that cheers 
the heart.” 

Austin had often heard his father laugh at this 
notion, as he called it. He did not realize how 
keen a memory it was until he found himself 
standing before his father’s gate, looking up at a 
house which showed no sign of life. Not a 
glimmer was visible. 

It seemed so like a gloomy reflection of the 
bitterness of his own thoughts that poor Austin 
stood clinging to the gate, his eyes fastened upon 
it. Only then did he seem to fully comprehend 
the potent power of death. Only then did he 
understand that when we drop out of our places 
on the plains of life, the one treading after 
changes the face of things to suit himself 
or herself — until he or she is in turn sup- 
planted. 

“No beggar would seek for admittance here,” 
he thought. “It would take a courageous 


CHANGES. 


113 


mendicant to go up that path and ask for food 
or shelter at that door.’^ 

He felt something of the timidity of the mendi- 
cant himself as he walked softly up the graveled 
path, and rang the bell. Its loud peal seemed an 
insult to the quiet house and the silent night. 

He waited a long while for a reply, and was 
about to press the button once more when he 
heard a hand on the knob. The opening of the 
door showed him that, inside, the hall was dimly 
lighted. It was Mary, the old servant, who 
confronted him. They stared at each other; 
she could not believe that this was the dear son 
of her always-beloved mistress. 

^^My father, Mary,^’ said Austin, in a whisper. 
‘‘Where is he^^ 

“Yon,” said Mary, in an equally low tone. 

“Alone?” 

“For the time being. Master Austin. God 
bless you, but youTe growing into the fine boy! 
It’s a delight to look at you. Sure, you’re no 
boy at all, but a man — ” 

“Mary!” called a finely modulated voice from 
the upper hall. “Who was that?” 

Mary put her fingers to her lips warningly. 
She tapped at the door of the doctor’s office, and 


114 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


before a reply could be given, opened it and 
motioned Austin inside. He heard the rest of 
the dialogue. 

*‘Some one to see the doctor, madam,” an- 
swered Mary. 

‘‘A gentleman?” 

“Yes, madam.” 

“Oh! Some patient, I presume,” said the 
lady. And then there was silence. Mary went 
back to the kitchen, while Austin, standing at the 
door, looked toward the well-remembered table, 
at which sat a form as well-remembered. The 
doctor, with his head resting on his hands, barely 
turned to greet the newcomer, motioning toward 
a chair. 

“Sit down, please,” he said. 

Austin recollected so well the last time he had 
seen him thus. It was the afternoon on which 
Miss Verney had ordered Rose Naughton to 
leave the house. How he had longed to open 
his heart to him then, to tell him that he loved 
him, that they must fight for each other, that no 
matter what happened, they must be united. 
But Dr. Mansfield had seemed so self-sufficient 
that such an appeal was difficult — too difficult to 
make. The emotions of that time overwhelmed 


CHANGES. 


115 


Austin now. He advanced stumblingly, until he 
reached his side, and then put out a trembling 
hand to touch his father’s shoulder. 

^‘Father!” he said, chokingly. “Dear father!” 

Dr. Mansfield sat up as if galvanized; his face 
went gra5dsh-white; his lips moved, but no words 
came. 

“Dear father,” said Austin, remembering Rose 
Naughton’s words, “I could not stay from you. 
I have come to you — surely you need me, 
father?” 

Dr. Mansfield found broken speech then. 

“Austin, my boy!” he said. “I thought — I 
did not know you were coming. Wait — you 
have given me a shock. Oh, oh, how like you are 
to your mother! How like, how like!” 

He covered his eyes with his hands. Austin 
drew the chair closer, so that their knees touched. 
He pitied this broken man as he had never 
thought to pity his father. 

“I asked permission to come — I felt that I 
must see you,” said Austin. 

“The telegram?” 

“Yes, father. It almost maddened me, at 
first. But — I am only sorry now, father.” 

“You have a hundred thousand reproaches, I 


116 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


suppose/’ he said, then, bitterly. *^Let us have 
it over. Let me hear all you have to say.” 

^‘But I have nothing to say,” said Austin, 
quietly; “nothing.” 

“Nothing? When I have put that woman in 
your mother’s place?” 

“Oh, my dear father — you have put her in 
your wife’s place; not in my mother’s.” 

Dr. Mansfield winced. 

“True,” he said. Then he added, “and I 
have no explanation to make.” 

“No, father — why should you explain to me?” 
said Austin, sorrowfully. “But I felt that you — 
that you might like to see me now. Perhaps I 
should have gone back — without coming here, 
but I—” 

The words died on his lips, for his emotion was 
too strong to permit him to continue. The 
older man gave no evidence of the conflicting 
thoughts of his mind. 

“Then you went visiting before you came?” 
he said, after a few moments. 

“I could not believe it — I went to the Naugh- 
tons to find out the truth. I thought some one 
was playing a joke on me.” 

“Those Naughtons!” said Dr. Mansfield, irri- 


CHANGES. 


117 


tably. I hate them — they are intruding every- 
where. They hate me! That woman looks at 
me so strangely — and that girl — Oh, I detest 
that girl!^^ 

Detest Vera! Hate Mrs. Naughton!’^ Austin 
stared incredulously. Father! Surely, there is 
a* spirit of evil abroad when you use such words 
as those — and about our truest friends.” 

“Friends!” said the doctor, testily. “ Don’t be 
a fool! John Naughton owes me fifteen thousand 
dollars — he must wear a friendly face with that 
burden on his back.” 

“You have not heard, then, that the mine is 
sold?” 

Dr. Mansfield half rose from his chair. 

“Sold! The mine? When? To whom?” 

“ I did not ask. It is sold, I believe, on Naugh- 
ton’s own terms. He will not owe you money 
very long, father.” 

“The sale is completed — the sale is completed? 
Tell me what you heard — and at once, Austin. I 
will know.” 

He spoke now with some of his old fire and 
energy. Austin sat back in his chair with a 
sudden feeling of helplessness. This man was 
a stranger to him. A stranger! The word 


118 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


kept buzzing 'in his brain. A stranger! His 
father! 

know nothing/^ said the boy, wearily, ^*and 
I am tired. I can sleep here to-night, I presume?^^ 

** Certainly. I will tell Mrs. Mansfield you are 
here.’^ 

Oh, how Austin’s heart bounded within him; 
how it ached at the sound of that name. He 
started up, placed his hand on his father’s arm, 
stared into his face almost wildly, as if beseeching 
him for some glimpse of the man he once had 
been, some evidence of paternal feeling. And 
the doctor, looking down, felt an emotion to 
which he had been for months a stranger strug- 
gling in his breast. His lips inoved. Then he 
shrugged his shoulders, turned away, shook off 
those fingers, which almost spoke to him in their 
clinging strength, and rang the bell. 

**Ask Mrs. Mansfield to come here, Mary,” he 
said, and a moment later the small, neat form of 
her who had been Christine Verney appeared. 
Austin caught the surprised look on her face as she 
saw him — caught it, and with it an expression 
almost like alarm. But it faded instantly. 
Always self-possessed, she now advanced toward 
him. 


CHANGES. 


119 


“ My dear Austin! A pleasant surprisel When 
did you arrive?” 

Only a few moments ago,” said the young man. 

*^You are here to — congratulate us — or the 
reverse?” she asked, coming at once to the point. 

“Whichever you choose,” said Austin, in tones 
as quietly calm as her own. “ Do you wish to be 
congratulated, madam — or the reverse?” 

Dr. Mansfield gazed at the boy in some wonder. 
He knew now, for the first time, that his son was 
a man, capable of resolute self-control. 

But Mrs. Mansfield shrugged her shoulders. 

“To that I can only reply that I am prepared 
for anything you have to say.” 

“Then I am tired. If you will permit it I 
should like Mary to get my old room ready. 
I must leave on the first train in the morning.” 

“As you will,” she answered. Through it all 
she held herself erect, with a bright, alert expres- 
sion and with a smile on her face. “ Youn room 
is ready now, Austin — every room in this house 
is always ready. Will you go to it?^^ 

“Thank you — at once.” He turned. “Good- 
night, father — and good-by. I shall start very 
early in the morning. The first train leaves 
Elmville station at four-thirty.” 


120 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


“An absurd hour!^’ smiled Mrs. Mansfield. 
She watched the two narrowly, nevertheless, 
anxious to find out how much influence the boy 
still held over his father. But there was no 
emotion visible. Austin^s face was like a mask, 
his father’s expression, if indicative of anything 
at all, one of annoyance. 

Christine Mansfield preceded the youth into his 
apartment and lighted the gas. 

“You must pardon me if I seem to intrude,” 
she said, turning to him, “but I would like to 
talk to you, Austin.” 

“I do not think I can be interested in anything 
you have to say,” said the young man. There 
was no offence meant — he simply stated a fact. 
She looked at him. 

“Sit down at least— it will not hurt you to 
listen to me.” 

“No, it will not hurt me,” said Austin. “But 
be brief, please. I am, as I said downstairs, 
extremely tired.” 

“I shall not detain you,” she said, not a little 
vexed, perhaps, at this non-committal attitude, 
this appearance of absolute unconcern, below 
which she could not penetrate. “You see, 
Austin, your father is not growing younger. The 


CHANGES. 


121 


control of the house rested so completely in my 
hands, that I sent for my good old Aunt Verney to 
help me. She was not alone of assistance, but 
she filled the r61e of chaperon. At my age, of 
course, a chaperon is a luxury to be dispensed 
with, but in a town of this description I thought 
it better to provide against remarks of any sort. 
Aunt Verney had, however, to return to the city, 
and it was while pondering over this annoying 
situation that the doctor suggested our marriage. 
He needs some one to take a personal interest 
in him — ” 

‘‘I can see that,^^ said Austin, in a peculiar 
tone. 

She fiushed, but continued without noticing the 
interruption. 

Every man does. I am not asserting affection, 
you will notice. Sentiment is out of the question. 
Nevertheless, we were old friends — ^might have 
been nearer friends if fate had not intervened, 
so that this marriage now is not altogether so 
inappropriate as it would seem. The doctor and 
I care a great deal for each other — I do not say 
that he has for me the feeling that he had for 
your dear mother — 

Pardon me,’^ said Austin, quietly, ^^do not 


122 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


mention her name, if you please. And if you 
are finished — you will allow me the privacy of 
my own room, at least?” 

Two red spots glowed on Mrs. Mansfield's 
cheeks. Her eyes sparkled suddenly. 

“Then you wish me to understand that you are 
my enemy? That is it?” 

Her voice changed with her expression. Austin, 
steady, quiet, self-possessed, did not change. 

“You have a hold on my father, and you com- 
pelled him to marry you. For his money, I 
suppose — or his prestige. Or perhaps, revenge. 
I can not tell.” 

She drew in her lips with a peculiar, hissing 
sound. 

“ So you mean that we are at odds? You mean 
that? This is war between us? Be careful, 
Austin. You may regret it.” 

Austin raised his gray-blue eyes, and laughed. 
That was all — a quiet, low laugh. Then he 
turned away, and she left the room. Juliet 
Mansfield was dead, but her spirit lived. Her 
son had inherited it. 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 


123 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 

Vera and her mother and father walked back 
very slowly across the well-remembered path. 
They walked silently, for each was engrossed 
with his or her own thoughts — and their thoughts 
were sad. 

**Poor lad — he is alone, said Mrs. Naughton, 
after a while. ‘*He is very much alone — for a 
boy who grew up loved by such a mother.’^ 

*^He has been too well-trained for it to injure 
him,” said Mr. Naughton. I wonder what plans 
he will make for the future? I would like — ” 
Mrs. Naughton shook her head. 

“We can help him to carve his own way, after- 
ward,” she said, “but you do not know Austin 
if you think he would accept any favors — even 
from us, John. He is too independent.” 

“I suppose so. Well, he can show the courage 
that is in him now. He can prove himself.^' 

“ What will his father say to him? ” mused Vera. 
“Or Mrs. Mansfield?” supplemented her 
mother. 


124 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


“Poor lad,” repeated John Naughton, “a sad 
home-coming for him, indeed.” 

They sat upon the piazza a long while discussing 
Austin and his affairs, speculating on the turn 
which they had taken, and on the turn which they 
would probably take. They were there long 
after Austin himself had retired, and fallen into 
the heavy slumber of complete exhaustion. 

He woke late — it was four o^clock when he 
jumped out of bed, and hurried into his clothes. 
He would have to hasten to reach Elmville station 
to catch the first train. Not a soul in the house 
was stirring. Mary had not been told that he 
was to leave so early, or she might have managed 
to give him breakfast. Dressed at last, he went 
down the stairs quietly and out into the pitch 
darkness of the early morning. Not a soul bade 
him adieu, not a soul wished him a safe journey. 
His heart ached a little. Three years before he 
had left home for the first time, with his dear 
mother waving her farewell from the open door, 
and Vera standing beside her with tear-stained 
cheeks. How that departure differed from this! 
He wondered how he could ever have been the 
bright, happy, careless boy of that well-remem- 
bered time. Now he left his father's house 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 125 

uncheered and hungry — he had not been asked to 
break his fast beneath his roof, and he had eaten 
nothing since noon-time the day before. 

But he braced his shoulders. He was a man, 
he thought — and endurance befitted the man of 
courage. He could not change or remake affairs. 
They had not been of his doing — he had neither 
hand por word in them. 

Nevertheless, try as he would, argue as he 
might, a bitterness threatened to overwhelm him 
as he strode along with rapid steps in the direction 
of the station — a natural bitterness. It was still 
with him when he swung up the three steps that 
led to the wooden platform, and then held his 
watch to the dim light of the lantern, to see what 
time it was. It lacked five minutes of the half- 
hour, and he replaced the timepiece in his pocket. 
Hardly had he done so when he heard the sound 
of approaching footsteps. He stared at the three 
figures that now joined him — in fact, surrounded 
him. 

You see we would not let you go away without 
bidding us good-by, Austin,” said the farmer, 
in his jovial voice. “Naught would do the 
mother and Vera but to get up at this hour, and 
come to see the early train pass.” 


126 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


*‘And mother wanted to bring you coffee/* 
said Vera, laughingly, ^‘but we cried shame on 
her — and made her leave it behind. Imagine 
Austin Mansfield drinking hot coffee on the station 
platform at Elmville!” 

“Imagine it!** said Austin, smiling. The 
bitterness took wings; his heart expanded. He 
caught Vera*s hands, and held them, warm and 
fluttering, in his own. “I don*t need any bever- 
age to warm me up — this unexpected pleasure has 
done it effectually. I can*t thank you.** He 
gave a swift glance along the track — far off in the 
distance gleamed the red eye of the oncoming 
locomotive. He was no longer sorrowful, no 
longer downcast, no longer alone, for Vera*s little 
hands remained in his and clung to him, and in 
the first flush of dawning affection he felt that 
this was sufficient to warm the coldest world, the 
chilliest heart. 

“Here she comes!** he said. “Not even time 
to exchange greetings,** for the piercing shriek 
of the engine sounded in their ears. “Good-by, 
my dear friends, my only friends, good-by. 1*11 
write to you when I reach the college. Good-by, 
Vera.** 

He kissed Mrs. Naughton first^ and then 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 


127 


stooped to the girl, who lifted her sweet round 
cheek modestly. With light step and bounding 
heart the young man sprang toward the car, 
grasped the hand-rail, and they stood smiling and 
calling farewells until the train moved out. Then 
they started homeward once more. 

“That pleased him more than anything in the 
world could have done,^^ chuckled John Naughton. 
“Do you know, mother, youVe got the best heart 
of any woman I ever met.^^ 

“That will do, John. We must not discuss 
each other in the presence of Vera,^^ she said, at 
which the three laughed together. 

“ I havenT to be in New York until ten o’clock,” 
said the farmer, “so I’m going back to bed for an 
hour. I want to have my wits about me when I 
get to that office. Planck wasn’t well last week, 
but he said if he had to stand on one leg, he’d be 
in at the finish. Whew, mother! Thank God, 
it’s over.” 

“Almost,” said Mrs. Naughton, quietly. 

“Isn’t she the contrary missus?” said John 
Naughton, appealingly to Vera, “and at this hour 
in the morning, too. Mother, you’re about the 
worst ever.” 

They made a second journey to the station 


128 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


later in the day to bid the husband and father 
good luck. Rose Naughton glanced up into his 
beaming face with a smile. 

“ John, you^re looking twenty years younger. I 
declare every one will want to know what you 
married this old woman for.^^ 

Oh, you can make believe you're my mother," 
laughed he, whereat she pretended to take offense, 
and he had to promise her the most absurd things, 
and pay her the most outlandish compliments 
before she would even consent to part friends 
with him. 

On the way home they met Mary. 

“I was just this minute going to your house," 
said the good old woman, looking with a worried 
face into Mrs. Naughton's. Something has 
happened that I wouldn't have happen for a good 
sum of money. And as I can't write myself, I 
want you or Miss Vera there to send a letter to my 
boy for me." 

*‘The Mansfields aren't in any more trouble, I 
hope?" asked Rose, an expression of alarm on her 
countenance. 

*'Not to my knowledge," said Mary, ^‘but think 
of it, Mrs. Naughton, dear! My boy — my own 
boy that I love like my own son, going this very 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 


129 


morning out of his father’s house with never a bite 
nor a sup in him I Nor a bite nor a sup last night, 
either, though I sat up until eleven o’clock waiting 
for him to come down — and when I tiptoed up- 
stairs to look for him, that banshee of a woman 
had every light out, and my boy was in bed. 
Asleep, too, tired out, the poor lad, for I listened 
to the breathing of him outside the door. And 
I was up at five this morning; and when I asked 
her when he was to have breakfast, she told me 
he had gone back to the city on the early morning 
train. Think of that!” The tears were rolling 
down her cheeks. 

Rose Naughton looked the sympathy she felt. 

‘^And I wanted to bring him coffee, but they 
laughed, saying that Mary would never let him 
out without his breakfast,” she said, with a 
mother’s concern in her tones. “Now, Vera!” 

There was a world of reproach in the exclama- 
tion. 

“I think I had better write, Mary — and ask 
his forgiveness, too,” said Vera, smiling. 

She was engaged for the next half-hour in 
taking down the good-hearted Mary’s explanations 
and self-reproaches, and when the letter was 
finished she added a postscript of her own, apol- 


130 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


ogizing for her part in depriving him of refresh- 
ment. Which prettily-worded apology gave him 
more pleasure than an ocean of coffee, he told her 
in his reply. 

They did not expect that Mr. Naughton would 
return until late in the afternoon, and it was after 
eleven when Mary’s epistle was finished, Vera 
offering to post it, since the old woman had spent 
so much time away that she knew Mrs. Mansfield 
would *^have a rod in pickle” for her, as she 
expressed it. So Vera went one way and she the 
other. 

“I’ll run in to see Father Barry before I come 
home, mother — I must tell him the good news. 
Do you think father would object?” 

“Dear child, no! Object to telling Father 
Barry? He knows that our concerns are his. 
Stop in, and tell Margaret to give you that recipe 
for her grape catsup again. I’ve forgotten it, 
and those grapes — But, pshaw? ” She laughed. 

“What is the use of my making grape catsup 
now? But it’s hard to get over the habits of 
years.” 

Vera gave her an affectionate squeeze and 
tripped away with Mary’s letter to Austin in her 
hand; and Rose Naughton made herself busy 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 131 

about her household affairs. She had not re- 
laxed any of her vigilance, but now as she passed 
from room to room, straightening here, and fixing 
there, she began to ask herself seriously if this 
were really to come to an end; if she and John 
and Vera were really to have as much money as 
they could spend; go where they pleased, do 
as they pleased; that lifers worries, in regard to 
pecuniary questions, were over at last. It meant 
a great deal for Rose Naughton, for the burden 
had indeed pressed heavily, and only the con- 
stant relief of prayer and trust in God’s divine 
providence had carried her through the darker 
hours. She was a young woman still — young 
enough at least to enjoy the beauty life has to 
offer, and a little tingle of excitement crept into 
her blood. Vera and John! Vera and John! 
That was her world — those two names comprised 
it; and if her dear ones were happy, she must 
perforce be happy also. 

“And by and by, when Vera is twenty or so, 
she and Austin will marry — and John and I will 
have them and their children, God willing, to 
comfort us in our stay-at-home years! God has 
been so good, God is so very good! ” she thought, 
with a rush of tears to her soft eyes. “I can 


132 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


never thank Him sufficiently for all He has done 
for me.” 

And yet while these thoughts were passing 
through her mind, her hands were busy. She was 
standing at the white deal table, kneading the 
bread before she put it into the pans to bake. A 
little song rose to her lips. It was a song of her 
younger days — one that she and John used to 
sing together, and she smiled, for she re- 
membered that this song would ever be 
associated with one momentous night — the night 
he had told her that he loved her, and asked 
her to marry him. It was over twenty-one 
years ago, but she had not forgotten — she would 
never forget. 

And it was while singing this that she looked 
up and saw her husband in the doorway, and the 
song left her lips. 

He stood leaning against the jamb, his face 
very pale, his eyes fastened upon her. She fell 
back, scarcely able to believe her eyes. 

“You! John! I did not expect you until 
four o’clock — and here it is barely noon. Why, 
you must not have gone at all — you have scarcely 
had time to reach the place.” 

“I was there, Rose,” coming into the room, 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 


133 


and dropping heavily into a chair. “Rose, 
Planck is dead.'' 

“Planck! The lawyer dead! Oh, no!^^ 

“Yes, dear. He died Tuesday. His office is 
closed. But he left my affairs straightened out 
from A to Z, poor fellow! His tones were husky. 
“Sheridan^s taken them up — but Sheridan! I 
never cared much for Sheridan; they can brow- 
beat him too easily.'^ 

“Did you go near the Berriman people at all, 
John?’^ 

“Yes, I went. They — they were not in a posi- 
tion to close the deal to-day. He spoke in a 
dazed way, and a sudden fear smote, like a dart 
of pain, through Rose Naugh ton's entire body. 
“There^s some trouble, Rose, I think." 

She wiped her hands hurriedly and came to his 
side, great concern on her face. 

“John, dear — you have bad news. What is it?" 

“Some one has been misrepresenting the Veron- 
ica mine," he said then, almost wildly. “And 
their principals refuse to consider the deal at all. 
I begged of them to take the opinions of compe- 
tent men — to send competent men out here, but 
it was a question of indifference to them; they 
simply said they had found a better investment." 


134 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


She had no thought but for the suffering he 
was enduring. She put her hand on his shoulder, 
with great tenderness and firmness. 

‘^John/^ she whispered, “it is only a little 
disappointment. God has sent it to us to test 
our faith in Him. What was it you said to Austin 
last night, dear? Endurance, suffering, is the 
test of courage! Come, now — youVe been so 
brave, so fine all through, don’t, don’t give way 
now. Success will be the sweeter when it 
comes.” 

“ Rose! ” He looked up into her face searchingly. 
“It is for your sake. I did not know how to tell 
you, and I knew I could not conceal it. Rose, 
you will not despair?” 

Bitterly she reproached herself then for her 
weakness of the day before. If she had not 
yielded to it, her dear husband would not have 
had so heavy a cross to bear. She put her arms 
about his neck and kissed him. 

“I was wondering how I could leave here only 
this very morning,” she said, quietly; “I would 
like to stay a while longer to see how the Mans- 
field affair turns out. It has worried me. I 
should not like to be far away when my dear 
Juliet’s son needed me. So if you imagine I want 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT, 135 

to leave Elmville get rid of that imagination. 
Especially now — ” 

“But yesterday you said — ” 

“Dear, yesterday poor Austin had not compli- 
cated matters. And if I worried, do you think 
it was for myself? Oh, no! Not even for Vera. 
It was for you.’’ 

“I must be a poor sort of man who can not 
bear his own troubles. 

“You are discouraged now, John?^^ 

“Yes, Rose-awfully discour aged-and for your 
sake; because I want you to be happy.^^ 

“Don^t, John. That hurts me. If I had only 
kept up — but the news seemed to lift me out of 
myself. It will only mean a little while longer.’^ 
“To me that little while will seem an eternity.^^ 
She hesitated ; then the clasp of her hands about 
his neck tightened. 

“John, dear — if — if it never comes true?’^ 
“Oh, Rose — it must. It must, I tell you.” 
“John, that is where my dread is. I dread for 
you if it doesnT come true.” 

He smiled, a little wearily, and then, loosening 
her arms, kissed her. 

“I’m — I’m afraid I fear for myself, too, Rose. 
Only for that I could not be in the black mood of 


136 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

despair that I am in now. I fear that I shall 
never have the ambition to do another thing with 
my life. And then you will lose faith in your 
husband.’^ 

“That^s a plain temptation/^ she said, cheer- 
fully. “Run out and take a look at your mine, 
and I’ll get the bread in the oven, or it will spoil. 
Vera has gone to the post office and will call on 
Father Barry. We’ll have lunch at one o’clock, 
so you can only stay away a half-hour.” 

And when he returned later, Vera met him 
with the breezy lightheartedness of youth. 

“So they won’t take the mine? Couldn’t you 
hold it, father, and make them pay about twice 
as much when they do see fit to make another 
offer?” 

“I wish I could look at it like that, Vera,” he 
said, smiling in spite of himself — her effort to be 
gay was so transparent. “But I’m so disgusted 
now that I’d be willing to let it go for anything.” 

“You won’t let it go for one penny less than 
your price,” said Rose Naughton. “After hold- 
ing out this long, to give in now? No, John 
Naughton, we’ll wait. Something will happen in 
a few days to cheer you up again.” 


WHAT HAPPENED. 


137 


CHAPTER IX. 

WHAT HAPPENED. 

^‘Here’s a letter from Sheridan/^ said John 
Naughton the next morning at breakfast. He 
looked his old cheerful self. The light had come 
back to his eyes, and the humor to his expression. 
No man could be anything but happy in the com- 
pany of two such cheerful mortals as Vera and her 
mother. The disaster of yesterday had seemed 
a mountain; it now was no larger than a molehill. 
*‘He is coming out here to-morrow, Rose,^^ he 
went on, wrinkling his brows as he read; **has 
news of serious importance to communicate. 
I wonder what it can be.^^ 

*^The Berriman people have reconsidered, of 
course,^^ cried Vera, triumphantly. ‘‘That^s it, 
father. 

“I hope it is, little daughter,’^ he replied, ‘*but 
we’ll not count on that until he appears. To- 
morrow morning! Why didn’t the fellow make 
it to-day, and have it over. These lawyers are 
as slow as molasses! I’ll never find another man 


THE fESf OF COURAGE. 


iM 

like Planck, never. And he was so interested in 
the case. Poor fellow, poor fellow! I can’t get 
him out of my head — he has been with me ever 
since I heard the terrible news.” 

They had listened to the tale of Planck’s death 
the night before, and they sincerely regretted the 
lawyer, who had been a good man and an honest 
friend, and in all his dealings with John Naughton, 
who had become acquainted with him through 
mere business channels, he had shown a singleness 
of purpose which was really evoked by the earn- 
estness of the man with whom he had to deal. 
No true man could know John Naughton well 
and not like him, and in fact be made better by 
his bluff good-nature and uncompromising 
uprightness. 

It was not to be wondered at, therefore, that 
on the death of Planck, who had had their affairs 
so much to heart, any new lawyer would give dis- 
satisfaction. John Naughton dreaded he knew 
not what from ^‘Sheridan’s mismanagement.” 
No matter what went wrong now, “if Planck had 
lived ” it would surely have gone right. So John 
Naughton would not let his hopes rise. Sheri- 
dan’s coming might mean some good. It was 
more likely to mean much evil. 


WHAT HAPPENED. 


139 


He was a young man, this Robert Sheridan — 
a young city man, who had just begun practising, 
and was hard put to it to get along. But he was 
honestly trying to fulfil Blanches wishes in regard 
to John Naughton. Planck had been a sincere 
friend of his in his struggling days, and Planck 
had told him that if he succeeded with John 
Naughton’s affair there would be a fee that would 
set him on his feet until cases began to come in. 
So Sheridan did the very best he could, and 
Planck could have done no better, as events 
proved. 

He was young, a little diffident, but manly, 
self-possessed, well-dressed, good-looking. He 
won favor by his open manners, and seldom had 
to strive hard to gain the fair opinion of the gen- 
tler sex. But when, after finding his way to 
Naughton^s — he had not mentioned what train 
he would take — he stood looking down at Vera 
Naughton's sweet young face, he felt that the, 
Veronica mine was a small treasure compared to 
that which John Naughton possessed in his own 
household. 

Nevertheless, he had come on a business errand, 
and one that was a sad errand. John Naughton 
greeted him with a suspicion of constraint. No 


140 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


one would know this except one well-acquainted 
with the whole-souled geniality of the man. 

^^The Berriman people have doubled the 
stakes? he said with an attempt at jocularity 
when the four were seated in the parlor — for 
Naughton insisted on Vera^s and his wife’s 
presence. *‘And you are in doubt if it will be 
acceptable to me?” 

Sheridan smiled. 

wish it were so, Mr. Naughton,” he said, 
earnestly. *‘But I have not the good luck to 
bring a message of that sort. It is no use beating 
about the bush. I have come with unpleasant 
news.” 

^‘I thought as much,” said John Naughton, 
grimly. I thought as much. Well,” he straight- 
ened back in his chair, “go ahead, Mr. Sheridan.” 

“You are acquainted, of course, with a gentle- 
man out here named Mansfield?” pursued 
Sheridan. 

“Mansfield? I should say so. He is a very 
good friend of mine?” 

“Friend of yours, Mr. Naughton?” Sheridan 
opened his eyes. 

“Why, yes. My wife and he have been 
acquainted for the last — for almost thirty years. 


WHAT HAPPENED. 


141 


His wife and mine were schoolmates and dear 
friends — and I’ve known him — well, since we’re 
in Elmville. Eighteen years anyhow.” 

“I mean Dr. Mansfield — Dr. Alfred Mansfield, 
the holder of the mortgage,” said Sheridan. 

^‘That’s the man.” 

“But — ” began the lawyer. He looked then 
at Rose Naughton and saw the sudden dread on 
her countenance. She was watching her un- 
suspecting husband. “He is not a friend of 
yours, as I take it, Mr. Naughton. His lawyer 
called on me the day before yesterday — shortly 
after you left my office — to tell me that he wished 
to foreclose the mortgage of fifteen thousand 
dollars which he holds upon this place. This 
Dr. Mansfield is the man who holds the 
mortgage?” 

John Naughton could not answer. Seeing that 
emotion, that incredulity overpowered him, 
Sheridan continued: 

“You may not have much faith in my judg- 
ment — I am almost a stranger to you,” he said, 
“but my opinion is that this man wants the mine. 
I think, sir, that it is his fault that the Berriman 
Syndicate have held off. Ira Mansfield — this 
other Mansfield’s brother, I presume — is a big 


142 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

member of the Syndicate, and between him and 
his friends they have financed the deal/' 

There must be some mistake,” said John 
Naughton, in a low voice. don’t think Mans- 
field is capable of such — such villainy. Why, 
man, it is robbery, pure and simple.” 

^^It is, of course. I tried all day yesterday 
to get some influential men to take up the Veron- 
ica, but in some way the rumor has spread that 
the Berrimans declined to have anything to do 
with it, and no one else will touch it. That’s 
part of the scheme, you see. They’ll not leave 
you a leg to stand on.” 

^^Dr. Mansfield to foreclose!” repeated John 
Naughton, in a dazed way. We can settle that, 
Mr. Sheridan. Let us call on Dr. Mansfield. We 
can learn the truth or falsity of this matter at 
once. Don’t worry, mother,” he added, affec- 
tionately. ^^At the worst — the very worst, it 
will be sold at public sale, and I’ll get something 
out of it. See, mother — you’re sure you won’t 
worry? ” 

His tender solicitude for her at that moment, 
when every hope of his own was tottering, almost 
unnerved Mrs. N aughton. But she rallied quickly, 
with a brave smile. 


WHAT HAPPENED. 


143 


“Tm not worrying, John,” she said, in her 
clear voice. shall never worry if you do not.” 

Mary met them at the door, with the informa- 
tion that Dr. Mansfield was just on the point of 
leaving the house. It was a hurried call, and 
she doubted if he would see them. But John 
Naughton smiled. 

“I sha’n’t ask his permission, Mary,” he said. 
'‘Come on, Sheridan. If they say anything to 
you, remember we forced our way in — you are not 
to blame.” 

He turned the knob of the consulting-room 
door. Sheridan, admiring the masterly bearing 
of the man, followed him into the apartment. 
Dr. Mansfield, attired for the street, was putting 
on his gloves. He turned with an inquiring 
expression when he heard them. Sheridan, 
keenly observant, noted the change that crossed 
his countenance when he saw John Naughton. 

"Do not let us disturb you,” said the last- 
named, quietly. "We will only keep you two 
minutes. This is my lawyer. Mr. Robert 
Sheridan, Dr. Mansfield.” 

Both men bowed in acknowledgment. 

"I have been making arrangements for the dis- 
posal of the Veronica mine^ as you are aware,” 


144 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


pursued John Naughton. ^‘Pardon me, Mr. 
Sheridan, but I know the facts so well — it is not 
because I want to take any of your prerogatives 
away from you. At any rate. Dr. Mansfield, the 
Berriman Syndicate were to buy it for $250,000. 
They have since refused, and have posted the 
mine as a doubtful proposition. In addition to 
this, your lawyer called on Mr. Sheridan here, 
informing him that you wished to foreclose a 
mortgage for fifteen thousand dollars which you 
hold on my pi ace. 

There was silence. Dr. Mansfield looked 
carefully at his gloved fingers. 

“Well,” he said, then, “what else?” 

“Isn't that enough?” asked John Naughton. 
He did not lose his self-command, his self-posses- 
sion. “ Isn't that sufficient? I simply came here 
to learn what truth there may be in this. Surely 
you, whom we have counted among our friends, 
do not authorize this foreclosure? ” 

“Friendship?” mused Dr. Mansfield. “Oh, 
of course, we are friends. But I am in need of a 
certain sum at the present time, and so gave my 
man of business orders to call in all out- 
standing debts. He is merely following my 
instructions.” 


WHAT HAPPENED. 


145 


“Oh! Then I am to understand that you have 
given him such instructions in regard to me?'* 

“I have told him that I require, as soon as 
possible, a certain sum of money that I have 
loaned. I think I am entitled to my own?" 

“Yes, you are," said John Naughton, between 
his shut teeth. “You're entitled to your own, 
you scoundrel — but you are not entitled to rob 
me—" 

“Don't lose your temper now, Mr. Naughton," 
said Robert Sheridan, speaking for the first time; 
“you've heard him. Come on." 

“Yes," said John Naughton, trembling with 
passion, “I'm going." He stood an instant look- 
ing at Dr. Mansfield, who raised his eyes defi- 
antly, but who quailed under the contempt of 
that silent gaze. Robert Sheridan put warning 
hand upon the big farmer's arm — he felt the 
intensity of the anger surging within him. But 
John Naughton was in no danger of losing his 
self-restraint. 

“It's all up with me," he said, when they got 
outside. “What will be the outcome of this, 
Sheridan? You've been mixed up with cheats 
like this before, or, have heard of them. What 
will be the outcome of this?" 


146 


THE TEST OF COUMGE. 


You'll get enough to pay the mortgage/' he 
said, slowly, “ and perhaps a little over." 

Enough to take me out of Elmville, anyhow, 
I hope," said John Naughton. could not 
breathe the same air with that man. So this has 
been his game — this, all along. He meant to get 
the mine by fair means or foul." 

** Probably not — his brother, Ira Mansfield, may 
be at the root of it." 

“No man — let him be brother or son or father — 
can undermine another's good principles." 

They walked home in silence. Robert Sher- 
idan declined his offer of refreshment, and parted 
with him at the door. 

“The money market is very tight," he said, 
“extremely so just at present. But I'm going to 
see if something can't be done to checkmate this 
fraud. It's nothing else. The only trouble is that 
people are dubious, and to enter into explanations 
will make them more suspicious still." 

“Oh, I expect nothing now," said John 
Naughton. “Nothing. Had Planck lived — " 

Robert Sheridan reddened slightly. John 
Naughton turned to him. 

“ Don't think I mean to hurt you," he said with 
frankness. “I don't. Nor must you think I am 


WHAT HAPPENED. 


147 


superstitious — rm not. But when I went to 
town Thursday and heard of Planck’s death, I 
knew that the affair would go up in smoke. This 
mine here is worth, to me, every penny I’ve asked 
for it — two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. 
To the Berriman Syndicate it would be worth 
milhons, because they have the capital to prop- 
erly exploit it. And I must lose something that 
is honestly my own because a man wants to 
cheat me out of it! That’s tough, Sheridan. A 
man can’t choose his words when he’s gone 
through life fighting and pinching and saving, and 
striking luck at last to have it snatched away 
from him. Not it alone, but the saving of years. 
And there’s a woman inside who’s worked shoul- 
der to shoulder with me. She has to start new, 
also. I think that’s the hardest part of all. 
You’d have to be married twenty years to a 
woman like her to know how hard it is.” 

Robert Sheridan felt a tingle somewhere in his 
blood as he listened to these manly, open words. 
He had liked John Naughton well enough as a 
client, and been deferent because of the oppor- 
tunities his affairs presented to a shrewd lawyer. 
But now, when he stood penniless, no longer 
desirable from a business standpoint, Sheridan 


148 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


felt the warmest admiration stir within him. He 
held out his hand. 

“I'd like to have a friend like you, Mr. Naugh- 
ton," he said; “and I wish, for your peace of 
mind, that Planck had lived. Planck was a good 
man, too, and he was good to me in many ways, 
and I certainly would do all I could for any one 
he took an interest in. I'd like you to believe in 
me, Mr. Naughton, I would, honestly." 

“I know you'll do all you can," conceded John 
Naughton. And with that they parted. 

As was to be expected; Rose Naughton and 
Vera made the best of the whole miserable affair. 
It did not surprise the mother any that Dr. Mans- 
field had taken advantage of their helplessness. 
From the first some intuition had warned her, and 
when Christine Verney took up her abode in 
Elmville, she had almost foreseen the end. 

They were stripped of everything, unless the 
mine brought at sale something over and above 
the fifteen thousand dollars they owed Dr. Mans- 
field and the expenses contingent on the proceed- 
ings. So she began shaping her future as if she 
were penniless. 

“We will go away altogether," she told Vera. 
“Father will never farm for himself again, and 


WHAT HAPPENED. 


149 


yet he must get something to do with or about a 
farm — he knows no other trade. We will find a 
small place and do the best we can. Only, my 
dear, whatever you feel, don^t let your father see 
a cloud on your face. We have to be brave for 
his sake, Vera.” 

And so they were, as brave as any two brave 
women could be. And during all the time that 
followed, with its vexing trials and crosses and 
annoyances. Rose Naughton and her daughter 
were sympathetic and cheerful and put a bright 
face on every matter that presented itself. 

In a month^s time it was all over. Some private 
speculator bought in the Veronica mine, the 
Naughton farmhouse and all the ground attached 
thereto for twenty-five thousand dollars. When 
expenses were cleared, John Naughton and his 
family possessed nine thousand dollars of this 
sum — at least they were not stripped of every- 
thing. For that much they could thank God. 


150 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE SILVER LINING. 

Father Barry mourned the great disappoint- 
ment that had come upon his best parishioners. 
With all his heart, he sympathized with them. 
He had, indeed, thought of going to Dr. Mansfield 
in person to plead for justice, but when he 
broached this to Rose Naughton she shook her 
head. 

“There is more to this than you understand. 
Father,” she said, with a courageous attempt at a 
smile. “It is in the shape of a family affair. If 
you went to Dr. Mansfield and argued with him 
for a score of years he would not change his mind. 
Not with that woman living in the same house 
with him. Father.” 

The priest understood enough of the situation 
to comprehend the significance of these words. 
Dr. Mansfield still attended church regularly, 
but the priest understood now that his presence 
in God^s house was more than ever a matter of 
habit. Because of this, he went out of his way to 


THE SILVER LINING. 


151 


be pleasant to him. For his dead wife’s sake the 
priest would hold him to his duty if it were 
possible. 

The Naughtons were given two months to 
leave the farm. Austin and Vera corresponded 
regularly, yet not one hint was breathed to the 
young man of the turn affairs had taken. The 
sale of the mine had fallen through, they wrote, 
and they were forced to close at a smaller figure 
than they supposed they would. Of his father’s 
part in it they did not tell him. 

“For he could do nothing and it would dis- 
tract him still further,” said Mrs. Naughton. “No 
— we will leave Austin to find this out for himself 
— he must, sooner or later; it will be hard enough 
then.” 

Singularly, they did not feel the disappointment 
as much as they had thought to. There was 
enough to keep them from want — there Rose 
Naughton was satisfied. With this sum they 
could buy a small place, as she said, and father 
would not have to look about him in his old age 
for the wherewithal to support himself and them. 

“So God is very good to us,” sang her joyous 
heart still. “God is very good. Let us give 
thanks to Him forever.” 


152 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

They did — and gave it in a substantial form. 
Of the sum which was so small in comparison to 
that which they had expected, they gave five 
hundred dollars to the Sisters at Newfields, and 
five hundred dollars to help Father Barry build 
his school. The good man protested, but John 
Naughton waved aside his protestations. 

‘‘The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away,” 
he said. “I have my wife and my daughter left 
me — and never have I thanked Him sufficiently 
for them both. This is a slight testimony to 
show my gratitude.” 

And the Lord, who sees and chronicles every 
deed of charity, saw and noted this and returned 
it. For, only a week before they were to leave 
the farm, they received a legal-looking document, 
in which it was stated that an old and half-for- 
gotten relative of Mrs. Naughton^s had died, and 
left her all that he possessed. As the possessions 
of this particular person had consisted of a small, 
but comfortable house, five miles further out, 
with enough ground attached to make small 
farming profitable, it seemed like a miracle. 
Later, however, they discovered that his savings 
had been invested in two houses in the city, 
which would net them an income of something 


THE SILVER LINING. 


153 


like twelve hundred dollars a year. This was 
the greatest surprise of all, and Vera clapped her 
hands joyfully. 

“Now we can go to Europe and Italy, father. 
Surely, with that much money every year, we 
can spend a little of what we have on ourselves. 

That his dreams were to be realized after all 
almost stunned John Naughton. He could not 
believe it. He went to see Sheridan and gave him 
charge of his affairs; then the three visited the 
sturdy little farmhouse and Rose began planning 
how she would change it and make it homelike, 
and fix this and that and the other thing, until 
the roses danced into her cheeks as if she were 
Vera’s self, and her soft brown eyes began to 
sparkle through the mist that tears and worry 
had brought to them. 

“And we’ll send all the furniture here from our 
own place, and when we come home it will be like 
returning to an old friend,” said Rose Naughton. 

“Mother,” said Vera, suddenly, “do you re- 
member what you said once — that when we were 
tired of the grand sights abroad we’d settle down 
in some little place near Elmville to be content 
forever? Your words are coming true.” 

“I wonder,” she said, later on, “if Mary is 


154 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


happy at the Mansfield^s? Do you think she’d 
live in our new little house for us, and take care 
of it until we came back?” 

It was a good idea, John Naughton said — they 
would broach it to Mary when first they saw her. 
So, thinking and planning happiness for them- 
selves and for others, too, they went about with 
such joyous faces that Dr. Mansfield, the prey of 
his conscience even then, could not understand it. 
And Christine Mansfield — God help any of her 
disposition! — would have given much to know 
wherein lay the secret of their open and unfeigned 
pleasure in quitting Elmville. She had thought to 
see Rose Naughton bowed under a heavy burden, 
but Rose Naughton looked younger and sweeter 
and happier than she had looked since her girlhood. 
To do Christine Mansfield justice, she had ever 
gone the wrong way about securing friends or 
affection. Love can not be coerced; nor favors 
enjoyed at the point of a bayonet. Had Rose 
gone to her, asking her to interfere in the sale of 
the mine, she meant, in all honesty, to induce 
Dr. Mansfield to give the Naughtons at least a 
sum slightly in keeping with the value of that 
which they were forced to part with. But Rose 
did not go to her. Rose was as cold as ever, a 


THE SILVER LINING. 


155 


slight inclination of the head, perhaps, her only 
sign of recognition. She had never exchanged a 
word with her since the afternoon of the scene 
which occurred in Dr. Mansfield’s house. So she 
fretted now and fumed for hours when she met 
any of the three, and made life unpleasant for 
those who came in contact with her. 

Poor old Mary was forced to bear the brunt of 
most of her ill- temper; and when John Naughton 
spoke to her of the little house which they wanted 
her to care for, her eyes lighted up with pleasure. 
Yet only for a moment. The next she shook her 
head. 

“I won’t leave my post,” she said. “The dear 
saint that’s gone wouldn’t want her husband help- 
less in the clutches of that creature. She’d 
starve him to death, if I weren’t there. And 
besides there’s my boy. I couldn’t go away from 
my boy. Whatever would he do if he came home 
with no one at all to welcome him?” 

Nevertheless, John Naughton’s proposal gave 
her an effective weapon against Mrs. Mansfield’s 
petty tyranny. 

“I’ll leave you at once if you keep a nagging 
me,” she said. “The Naughtons want me to 
keep house for them, and I’ll simply clear out and 


4 


156 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

go. I wouldn’t stay here at all if it wasn’t for 
Master Austin, And if you lose me,” she added 
significantly — for the servant question was a 
problem in Elmville, also — “you’ll find it hard to 
get any one to put in my place.” 

“Such impertinence!” declared Mrs. Mansfield 
to her husband, who listened without hearing a 
word she had to say. But Mary had no further 
trouble after that. Which was another good 
result brought about by John Naughton. 

Events followed rapidly now; the Naughtons 
did not remain long in Elmville when the final 
arrangements were made, but started at once for 
the city, after bidding friends and neighbors 
good-by. And the following letter will describe 
what they did, and how they set out on the 
journey that meant the realization of their 
ambitions. 

“ Dear Austin: [So it began.] 

“I know you’ve had more experience of the 
world outside Elmville than I, and I suppose 
that the newness of everything wouldn’t come 
home to you so delightfully as it does to me. 
Do you remember how we used to watch the 
little nestlings trying to fly; how they’d spread 


THE SILVER LINING. 


157 


out their little wings, and flutter and fall and 
try again, and at last succeed in going a few 
yards, when they’d stop to rest — seeming, we 
often thought, just bursting with pride after their 
first successful venture? 

“I’m afraid I’m a little bit like one of those 
nestlings. I’ve gotten my wings all ready, and 
though we’re only on the ship outward bound to 
Naples, still I feel as if I can not contain the joy 
that fills me. I feel bursting over. I feel as 
if the world has been made young for me, young 
and fresh, and that I was the only one able to 
enjoy its full beauty. I know that’s been said 
before — that for each one of us the old world is 
made young, but now I feel it, and feeling it seems 
different. 

“Oh, Austin, we had a most glorious week in 
New York City. Father and mother and I were 
so sorry that you could not get away to join us — 
if it were only for an afternoon. But seeing that 
it is examination time, we could not expect you. 

“You talked in your last letter as if you were 
vexed — and I think you are vexed at me. That’s 
why I didn’t answer it, for you have no right to 
be annoyed, and it made me angry, too. Mr. 
Sheridan is father’s lawyer now since Mr. Planck 


158 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


died, and he didn’t call to see me at all. It was 
to see father. He did invite us to the theatre one 
evening, but that was only common courtesy and 
he hardly exchanged two words with me all 
evening. So, my dear Austin, I think I am very 
nice to you to give you such an explanation, and 
I won’t say any more about it. But you hurt 
me very much by not calling to bid us good-by, 
and the roses in the cabin didn’t make up for it 
at all. I wish you had kept the roses and brought 
yourself instead. 

[Vera did not find out until later that Austin, 
unavoidably detained, had arrived at the wharf 
just in time to see the stern of the steamer moving 
slowly out into the bay. Whereat he went home 
hot, angry, and bitterly disappointed.] 

*^They say we’ll have a chance to post our 
letters in mid-ocean, so I’m writing this on the 
strength of that chance; and if we don’t, I’ll send 
it as soon as we get ashore. We have been four 
days out now, and father was the only one sea- 
sick. Neither mother nor I felt it the least little 
bit, but father — well, he never has been sick, and 
it took him so by surprise — especially when 
mother and I kept up — that he can’t do anything 
but talk of it. The captain and he are great 


THE SILVER LINING. 


159 


friends — father seems to make friends so easily 
(but who could help liking father?), and has 
given us a lot of information about Italy — how 
to act when we get there, and how to travel with- 
out spending all our money before we reach the 
border. You see we haven^t got so much of it 
that we want to spend it all at once [a remark that 
puzzled Austin very much, not having the key 
to it]. But oh, Austin, I don’t see how Naples or 
Sorrento or even Venice can equal this beautiful, 
beautiful ocean. I could watch it forever. I 
never even saw a decent-sized river until we went 
down to take the steamer, and as for an ocean — 
no imagination of mine could ever compass it. 
The captain jokes me about it — and there is a 
splendid second mate who is very much devoted 
to mother because she reminds him of his mother, 
he says (now, Austin, don’t be silly again — it is 
really mother this time), [another slip which made 
Austin frown with quick comprehension] and he 
explains everything to us — the watches, longitude 
and latitude, though that is hard to understand 
and I don’t understand it yet. You’d laugh to 
see mother looking so wise and shaking her head 
as if she knew all about it. How father teases 
her! She is so pretty now, Austin — much prettier 


160 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


than ever she was, and father says he knows 
she is breaking that young man’s heart. Just 
think how they tease each other! I have 
the grandest father and mother in the whole 
world. 

^‘But to go back to the ocean. I don’t under- 
stand the learned part of it, as I told you, and do 
you know I don’t want to. I wouldn’t dare — 
not even if I were the cleverest woman in the 
world — try to explain the ocean. I look down 
over the ship’s side sometimes, and I feel as if I 
can almost see the cities under the waves. There 
must be cities under it — it must hold some lovely 
secret hidden in its big green arms — and I wish 
I could learn that secret. I am sure that no mat- 
ter what we shall see, I shall never, never forget 
this dear, beautiful, glorious ocean. It has wel- 
comed me so splendidly; it has smiled all the 
time. I know it can frown and threaten, too — 
but so far it has been only on its best behavior, 
and I love it. 

“We will be at Naples within a week and I know 
I shall be sorry when we reach there. I will 
write to you all the time and tell you just what 
I think of everything. I can then compare my 
impressions coming back with those that I have 


THE SILVER LINING. 


161 


now — that is, if you think enough of my letters 
to keep them. 

“I showed mother your letter in which you 
speak of the future. Dear Austin, I do care for 
you very much. You see, weVe been brother and 
sister to each other, and I never found anybody 
could take your place. But then IVe only known 
Mr. Sheridan and the second mate. Perhaps, I 
may meet others. I can’t tell. Mother told me 
to answer you in whatever way I pleased — she 
said she wouldn’t influence me. I don’t think 
I’ll meet anybody away from home that can 
take your place, so I’ll be sure not to forget you. 

“Still, I’m angry about your not coming to the 
wharf, and I’m vexed at the mention of Mr. Sheri- 
dan. And now I’m going to give this letter to 
mother, and I hope she approves of it, because 
if she doesn’t you’re not going to get it. 

“So I hope you will be a good brother. You 
have the address of the hotel in Naples, and if we 
don’t go there we’ll call there for our mail anyhow. 
So now, good-by, dear Austin, and I hope that 
you are not vexed and that when you write you 
won’t speak of Mr. Sheridan in — in that way. 

“Your loving sister, 

'"Veronica Naughton.” 


162 


THE TEST OF COURAGE, 


This letter was the first of a great many which 
Austin was to receive during the two years that 
followed — letters which he answered with fervor 
and punctuality. At the end of the year his 
father sent for him. 


WITHOUT prejudice: 


163 


CHAPTER XI. 

WITHOUT PREJUDICE.^' 

If Austin’s correspondence with Veronica 
Naughton had been fervent and lengthy, and if, 
toward its close, his expressions lost in mere friend- 
liness, and gained in outbursts of affection, he 
could not say this of his letters home. He wrote 
to his father with regularity — wrote once every 
month, giving him a full report of his class studies, 
his percentages, and adding any item that he 
thought might interest him. Every quarter his 
father wrote him, in a stiff and stilted fashion 
that hurt Austin very much in the beginning 
yet which he soon grew accustomed to — especially 
since Veronica Naughton’s letters made such a 
warm spot in his life. He enclosed a check to 
cover expenses and allowances for the next three 
months. 

But Austin had not been idle, nor was he will- 
ing to rely on his father for his future. Without 
going into details he had been quietly studying 
law. Among his instructors was one of the clever- 


164 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


est teachers of jurisprudence. He truthfully con- 
fessed that he had never found a more apt pupil 
than Austin Mansfield — that if lawyers are ever 
born, not made, then Austin had the truly judicial 
mind. The fact that he was studying, that he 
had passed his examination with honors, he had 
not mentioned in his brief epistles to the doctor. 
He felt that his stepmother — though he never 
gave her that title — read every line, and he would 
not have her meddling in his affairs, he told him- 
self, with a grim look that robbed him for the 
moment of all likeness to his sweet-faced mother. 

He had planned every hour almost of the ensu- 
ing year. He had worked very hard the year 
preceding, even during his vacation. Gregory 
Sharpe had taken up this pursuit also, and al- 
though five years Austin’s senior, found himself 
equalled by the ambitious youth. He took it 
good-naturedly enough — too honest and too 
aspiring to feel hurt at another’s brilliancy. 
Their vacation they spent at Gregory’s home, 
building up imaginary cases, and arguing them 
pro and con, to the great delight of Sharpe’s 
father. All his surroundings tended to make 
Austin successful, for Judge Sharpe was as im- 
partial in passing on the cases of his son and his 


WITHOUT prejudice: 


165 


son^s friend as he had been in any court of law. 
Their plans were made for the future, also. 
Austin had developed a great gift of oratory; his 
speeches were brilliant, while Sharpe was slower, 
more dogmatic, a little shrewder, perhaps, than 
his versatile friend. They would form an excel- 
lent partnership. Judge Sharpe told them — and 
surely there was need for a firm of honest, earnest, 
brilliant young Catholic lawyers. 

The summons from home came with a shock to 
Austin. The words were brief enough, the reason 
decisive. ^*You have been away long enough; I 
need you.^’ Any other message would have 
brought forth a storm of remonstrances. But 
Austin, in spite of his close application, in spite 
of all that had happened, had not lost his filial 
affection, and though his father's marriage had 
hurt him and estranged him, nevertheless, the 
absence from home had brought back the old 
feeling; his father's kindness, too, in supporting 
him unquestioningly, had not gone unappreciated, 
especially since, as he grew older, Austin found 
out what an important factor money was in the 
world. 

Coincident with this message — on the very 
afternoon of the day on which he received it, a 


166 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


visitor called at the college, and Austin was sum- 
moned to the parlor. He did not recognize the 
tall, spare man who rose at his entrance and stood 
gazing at him, with cold scrutiny in his keen eyes. 

‘‘You are Austin Mansfield? he inquired. 

“I am, sir; and you?'' returned the youth. 

“Your father's brother, Ira Mansfield." 

Austin bowed. He knew that Ira Mansfield 
was a man prominent in financial affairs, but 
he had never seen him before. So much for the 
closeness of the ties that bound the Mansfields 
together. 

“ Your father and I are business partners, now," 
said Ira Mansfield. “I've been watching your 
career with some interest — have, indeed, kept 
quite a watch on your friends and associates. 
We are delighted that you have undertaken the 
study of law. We need you in our affairs, young 
man — just such an enthusiastic, brilliant young 
fellow as you are proving yourself to be." 

Austin was conscious of a not altogether 
agreeable surprise. 

“I have concealed from my father the fact that 
I am studying for the bar," he said, coldly. 

“Yow may have thought you were doing so; 
but I have kept him very well-informed of your 


Without prejudice:* 


167 


tastes and likings. Your professor gives me some 
fine reports of you. I asked him particularly not 
to let you know that I was interested. I am grati- 
fied that he kept the thing a secret. Your father, 
however, will talk with you at greater length on 
this subject, and if I can be spared I will go to 
Elmville, Thursday. We can make arrangements 
then to put you in charge of the Veronica mine — ” 

‘‘Veronica mine! You own the Veronica 
mine?” cried Austin. “My father never told me 
anything of that.” 

Ira Mansfield smiled. His appearance was 
disagreeably cynical at all times, but particularly 
so when he smiled. 

“Perhaps not — your father is not likely to 
boast of his shrewdness — but then! It was purely 
a matter of business; purely a matter of business.” 
He rose, and held out his hand. “I am pleased 
with my nephew — my only nephew,” he added 
with a significance that was lost on the son of 
Juliet Mansfield. 

“Thank you,” said the young man, absently. 
He was puzzled and annoyed. Not hurt this 
time, because he had given up expecting his 
father^s confidence. But there was something 
in Ira Mansfield’s expression that seemed to put 


168 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


him on his guard. As soon as his uncle left, he 
sought the instructor who had taken such pains 
with his studies and such pleasure in his success. 

“Father,” he said, earnestly, “why did you not 
tell me that my uncle and my father were inter- 
ested in my studying law? Was there any 
reason beyond the mere fact that they requested 
you to keep silence?” 

The priest looked grave. 

“Austin,” he said, “that^s a hard question. I 
kept the fact from you because your uncle 
requested me to, of course. But do you know 
I think I had another reason? I wanted you to 
study fairly, honestly, without any other incen- 
tive than your own motives. You have done so, 
Austin — you need not be afraid of any problem 
or any person. My dear boy, your path in life 
now is of your making; you may take whatever 
road you will.” 

“But Gregory and I intended to open offices 
together,” said the young man, with a grim set 
of his jaw. “My father sends for me to go to 
Elmville — my uncle informs me that it is to take 
charge of the affairs of the Veronica mine. What 
do I know of mines or mining, and how has my 
education prepared me to undertake this work?” 


WITHOUT PREJUDICED 


169 


He shrugged his shoulders. “I shall try to act 
without prejudice, Father.” He smiled, then; 
*Hhat is your watchword, eh? Without 
prejudice.” 

“That^s it — that^s a fair start, my lad,” said 
the priest, his face clearing. And your common 
sense will direct you then.” 

So Austin left his college for home. 

It was nightfall when he reached there — a 
night late in October, when the evenings, though 
still mild enough, were dark. It reminded him 
of that night in which he had returned to learn 
the truth of his father^s marriage, and as he walked 
at a brisk pace in the direction of his home, he 
wondered whether the house would loom up before 
him as it had then — dark and gloomy. 

He scarcely recognized it, so prepared was he for 
that forbidding aspect. It was the reverse of 
what it had been, cheerful and well-lighted. The 
windows were thrown open, and from the parlor 
there floated out, borne on the evening breeze, 
the sound of a piano played by accomplished 
fingers. He listened, surprised. It was Chami- 
nade's “Scarf Dance,” exquisitely rendered — 
suggestively rendered, as if the player had caught 
the spirit of the composer, and swayed in the 


170 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

mystic dance with her. Austin stood leaning 
against the post of the gate until it was finished. 

*^It is not that woman/^ he said, decidedly, 
as he started up the path; “she could never play 
like that, even if she knew how to play. And 
yet I have not heard — ” 

He paused suddenly. A stranger he had left 
his father’s house, a stranger he returned to it. 
It was a peculiar thing that he could never 
seem to remember this. Perhaps it was because 
of the fact that his own mother had made this 
place a home to him, and that he loved it, and 
would ever love it with the old homelike affection. 
He rang the bell now, wondering whether Mary 
were still the chief factotum in this strange house- 
hold, and his heart gave a bound of gladness when 
her wrinkled face looked out at him from the daz- 
zlingly-lighted hall. At least Mary was the same. 
There was some of the old life left. A sweet 
smile of welcome lighted up her honest counte- 
nance, and she grasped the hand he gave her 
eagerly in two trembling ones. 

“Dear Master Austin, dear Master Austin, Pm 
that happy!” she said. “It’s the happiest day 
I’ve known in years.” 

“Thank you, Mary,” he said, touched by her 


WITHOUT prejudice: 


171 


affection. *‘I^m glad to see that you remember 
me, anyhow. Where is my father?’^ 

“In the parlor here, lad,^' said Mary. “The 
madam’s niece is with us now, and has been for 
the past month or so.” 

Austin nodded, and then turned toward the 
parlor. It was a sort of ordeal to enter here and 
greet his father before “that woman” and a 
stranger. But there could be no demonstration 
between them — his father would not overwhelm 
with an outburst of affection. 

As he stood in the doorway, looking about him, 
the three occupants of the room raised their eyes. 
Dr. Mansfield, with an ejaculation of pleasure, 
sprang to his feet, and advanced to his side at 
once. 

“Austin! I am glad to see you, my boy — very, 
very glad.” 

They shook hands, each conscious of the other’s 
searching gaze. Whatever fear had shaken the 
older man’s nerves was no longer evident. He 
was as he had been in Juliet Mansfield’s time — 
stout, prosperous-looking, pompous — and for a 
man of fifty-three, remarkably young and hand- 
some. Austin noted his attractive appearance 
with a little wonder — he had not expected this. 


172 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


His marriage had not made any change in him 
after all — no apparent change, he added mentally. 

Mrs. Mansfield, as neatly dignified as ever, 
attired in soft black silk, with dainty lace at 
throat and sleeves, did not seem so weak a con- 
trast to the woman whose place she filled — she 
was a lady in appearance at least, thought Austin. 
And then she greeted him, warmly, without a 
trace of anything in her tones but sincerest 
liking and regard. 

“And this is my niece, Cyrilla Verney,^^ she 
ended. “Allow me, Cyrilla, dear. This is Dr. 
Mansfield^s son, Austin.^^ 

Austin bowed low over the white hand, which 
was extended to him in all friendliness. Some- 
how he was not astonished at the prettiness of the 
small, dark face that looked up at him, a smile 
on the red lips so charmingly curved. He had 
been prepared for something of this sort after 
hearing the “Scarf Dance.” 

He was trying to get his bearings, as it were — 
trying to reconcile this homecoming with the last, 
and fighting down the antagonism that he knew 
still held him in iron bonds. “Without prejudice,” 
the priest had said, and Austin honestly tried 
to follow that advice. He took his father and his 


WITHOUT PREJUDICE.” 


173 


stepmother as he found them, prepared to accept 
their face value, as he told himself, bidding his 
imagination not to seek for flaws. 

But Austin, at nearly twenty-two, was as great 
a surprise to Dr. Mansfield as Dr. Mansfield had 
been to Austin. His son was a man, square of 
shoulder, broad of brow; tall, well-built, with 
large, frank, gray-blue eyes, and a jaw expressive 
of great will-power. His whole personality de- 
noted strength, strength of will, of mind, of body. 

Nor was he in the least diffident, but proved 
himself as agreeable in conversation as he was in 
personality. Cyrilla Verney, city-bred — and city- 
spoiled — was surprised at the self-assurance, 
which yet was far removed from boldness, the 
easy manners which were not trifling. She knew, 
of course, that Austin Mansfield was being edu- 
cated in a city college, but she had had a great 
pity for folks forced to live in the country. Dr. 
Mansfield had been a surprise at first — and his 
son came to complete her wonder — and her 
conversion. She would never assert again that 
country-bred men were boors. 

Mrs. Mansfield said something of this sort to 
her as the evening wore on, and she blushed and 
shook her head. 


174 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


^^IVe changed my mind/^ she said; “I take 
back all I have ever said about the country. It is 
a subject on which I have much to learn. 

'‘Is Elmville changed? asked Austin. "I did 
not get much chance to look about me — it was 
too dark when I reached the station. I was 
thunderstruck when my uncle told me that you 
and he now own the Veronica mine.'^ 

A tender subject! He noted the flush that 
mounted his father’s smooth cheeks — the look of 
embarrassment with which he regarded him. 

"You knew we owned the Veronica mine, 
didn’t you?” he asked. 

"Why, no — no one told me. The Naughtons 
gave me the impression that a Syndicate bought 
it.” 

Dr. Mansfield lifted his eyebrows. 

"They did not tell you that — that a private 
speculator bought it in for the Syndicate — that 
your Uncle Ira was at the head of it and that I — 
that I helped the sale?” 

"No,” said Austin, a little vexed that he had 
to acknowledge this. "You astonish*^ me — 
especially since I correspond regularly with4hem.” 

"You what?” cried Dr. Mansfield. 

"I correspond with Veronica Naughton and her 


WITHOUT prejudice: 


175 


father and mother — have done so ever since they 
left for Europe. They will return in December. 
Expect to be in their own home for Christmas day. 
Why should this astonish you, father? 

do not like them, Austin.’^ There was 
annoyance in his tones. do not like the idea 
of this correspondence, either. If I had known 
of it— 

*‘My dear father,^^ said Austin, in a low voice, 
for he saw that Mrs. Mansfield had raised her 
head and was listening, ^^donT let us quarrel. 
It is too early to start that. The Naughtons were 
my mother^s dearest friends — as they are mine.^' 

Dr. Mansfield shrugged his shoulders. 

**As you say, it won’t do for us to quarrel. It 
is too early — there will be lots of time to do that.” 

^‘Not willingly,” said Austin, with a half-smile; 
“I won’t quarrel willingly.” 

It was impossible to resist him; the doctor 
smiled back into his face. 

“Not willingly, either,” he said. 


176 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE NEW SUPERINTENDENT. 

Austin got no chance to talk to Dr. Mansfield 
about his future. It was necessary that he should 
rest, should take life easy for a week at least before 
he began to think of the serious things of existence, 
they told him. And taking life easy meant, so far 
as Austin could see, playing cavalier to Cyrilla 
Verney. Now Austin had never played cavalier; 
besides, his mind was filled with thoughts of one 
other girl, whose sweet face was enshrined in his 
heart. He wrote a long letter to Vera soon after 
his homecoming — it was to be his last communi- 
cation with her until the Naughtons arrived in 
port — in which he carefully avoided Speaking of 
the subject which now engrossed him, until, as a 
seeming after thought,he added a postscript. 

^‘Did you know that my father and uncle own 
the Veronica mine?^^ 

This question would surely not embarrass them, 
he thought, or show his vexation at having to 
acknowledge that his best friends had kept him 


THE NEW SUPERINTENDENT. 177 

in ignorance of certain facts. He had been pleased 
to feel that, in spite of the aversion that Dr. 
Mansfield had conceived for them, he had not 
hesitated in doing them a service when it lay in 
his power. So greatly was Austin in the dark in 
regard to the true nature of the transactions 
which had taken place. And, as is usually the 
case, it might happen that a long interval would 
pass before he found out the truth. 

He liked Cyrilla Verney. She played beauti- 
fully, was a charming conversationalist, was 
bright and witty. When he was not fretting 
against inaction, he enjoyed her society. She, 
on her part, exerted all her graces of mind and 
person to attract this young man — and, having 
no index to the tenor of his thoughts, flattered 
herself that she was succeeding. She did not 
know that Austin could never waver in his alle- 
giance. Courteous ever, with a subtle air of 
deference that set Cyrilla Verney^s pulses beating, 
his heart still clung to the one girl in the world. 

Mrs. Mansfield, after Austin had been with 
them four days, went down to Dr. Mansfield^s 
study, carrying in her hand a small object. She 
approached the doctor's chair and placed it at 
his elbow. 


178 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


*‘Do you know who this is?^^ she asked, in a 
quiet voice. 

It was a small leather photograph frame, con- 
taining a girl’s picture. At nineteen Vera Naugh- 
ton had blossomed into the beauty that her 
youth had but promised. There was little of the 
old-time childishness in the sweet face. The eyes 
were grave; the lips resolute. It was the picture 
of a lovely girl, but also the picture of a girl 
with intellect. Travel had, indeed, completed her 
education, if this photograph stood for anything. 

“That is a picture of Vera Naughton,” said Dr. 
Mansfield, after a moment. “Where did you 
find it?” 

“On Austin’s dresser.” 

“On Austin’s dresser! It is a serious matter 
then.” 

“ Yes,” she answered. “ It will spoil our plans. 
He will not fall in love with Cyrilla, if he is in love 
with Vera Naughton.” 

“I should take chances on that,” said the doc- 
tor, “if he had not said they were returning. He 
evidently knows nothing about the mine affair. 
Why have they kept it from him?” 

“They will get the mine in the end if he and 
Vera marry,” 


THE NEW SUPERINTENDENT. 


179 


“We’ll see about that,” said Dr. Mansfield, 
grimly. “Ira could not come last week — he will 
be here to-morrow. We’ll have a good talk, then, 
and find out where we stand. I would like Austin 
never to discover the truth, if it were possible. 
He is — peculiar.” 

“There is no way in which we can influence 
him?” said Christine Mansfield, slowly. “You 
have no power over him?” 

“No power except that of parental au- 
thority — and that will go just so far and no 
further.” 

His wife nodded. Her brain was busy. It 
was a shrewd brain at times and Austin was 
necessary to them in many ways. By binding 
him to them through Cyrilla Verney, they would 
simplify matters. As for marriage with Vera 
Naughton — such a thing could not be considered. 
She placed the picture back again upon his 
dresser and went away to meditate. 

Ira Mansfield arrived very early on Sunday, 
and Dr. Mansfield and his wife drove to the station 
to meet him, thus missing Mass, to Austin’s grave 
annoyance and displeasure, who had not yet 
found out that his father and stepmother now 
seldom frequented the pew which they still held 


180 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


in the parish church. Ira^s first question was for 
the young man. 

“He has gone to church,” said the father. 

“To church?” echoed the other. “Oh! Does 
he still go to church? He’ll soon give that up, 
once affairs begin to press upon him. He’ll need 
his Sundays to rest for the week.” 

Christine smiled. Ira Mansfield hated her with 
all his heart, and though they were polite for 
appearance’ sake, neither could refrain from 
making occasional annoying remarks to and about 
the other. 

“Why do you smile, madam?” he demanded 
now, testily. 

“Perhaps, I know Austin better than you,” 
she answered. “ He will never give up his church.” 

“We’ll see,” said Ira Mansfield, “we’ll see. 
Men more foolish than he have been converted. 
Austin is too bright, too clever to stand over much 
of Church control.” And he turned on Austin 
the moment he came into the room. 

“Hear you have been to church, lad?” he said. 
“What did the parson preach about?” 

“Do you mean to say you haven’t been?” said 
Austin. He resented the sneer in his uncle’s 
voice, 


THE NEW SUPERINTENDENT. 181 

“/ go to church?” Ira Mansfield laughed out 
loud. *^That is for old women and babies — not 
for men.” 

“ I trust I am neither a babe nor an old woman,” 
said Austin, and his eyes seemed to contract sud- 
denly; **but I am going to church, have gone to 
church, and will go to church, with God’s help, 
as long as I live.” 

“You think that now,” said the uncle. “You 
wait, you wait.” 

Austin said nothing, for the distress that seemed 
to creep across his father’s face restrained him. 
But that conversation prejudiced him against his 
uncle. Ira Mansfield had started wrong. 

“We can arrive at some definite idea to-day, 
I hope,” said the young man, during the course 
of the afternoon dinner. “I am tired of idleness. 
I want to know just where I stand, just what is 
expected of me. If I can agree to undertake it, 
well and good. If not — the reverse.” He smiled, 
but there was a suspicion of resolute determination 
about him that augured ill for any scheme of 
which he did not approve. 

The sale of the Veronica mine, as our readers 
will probably have realized ere this, was but a 
transaction entered into to defraud John Naugh- 


182 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


ton. The Berriman Syndicate had existed — on 
paper. The idea had been first suggested by 
Christine Verney, who saw possibilities of future 
wealth in it, and also a sort of revenge upon the 
woman she so heartily detested. More as an 
experiment than anything else, Dr. Mansfield had 
placed the affair of the mine and the mortgage 
before his brother Ira, and was immediately car- 
ried away by the plans which Ira at once unfolded. 
It was Ira who organized the so-called Syndicate. 
John Naughton was helpless. He had only Dr. 
Mansfield’s promise not to foreclose within a 
certain length of time, or without warning and 
opportunity to raise the sum required to liquidate 
the mortgage. In this way, the Veronica mine 
had passed from his possession. 

These facts, of course, were not related to 
Austin. Instead, it was made to appear that Dr. 
Mansfield, interesting himself in the affair, 
brought it to his brother’s notice, who in turn 
organized the Syndicate, and then dissolved it, 
buying in all the shares himself. For his part in 
it, and because of the money he had invested, 
Austin’s father was supposed to be joint owner. 
This was the version given to Austin. Now Dr 
Mansfield was no business man, nor was he 


THE NEW SUPERINTENDENT. 183 

inclined to be one, and his brother had too many 
large interests in the city to spend much time in 
Elmville. So the scheme had been to place Austin 
in charge. His training had fitted him for any 
critical issue that might arise. They had had a 
great deal of trouble — the chief difficulty being 
to find a reliable man. The workmen, too, gave 
rise to many conflicts. There were few Americans , 
the majority of them being of different national- 
ities, and as a matter of course the elements 
failed to mix. 

It was no pleasant undertaking, this that they 
presented to Austin Mansfield now, and he looked 
grave. 

“This is one chance in ten thousand,’^ said Ira 
Mansfield. “It will be the foundation of your 
fortune.” 

“When do you want my decision?” asked 
Austin. “I suppose I am allowed a certain time 
for consideration of the matter?” 

Ira Mansfield opened his lips to speak, but 
caught the warning glance his brother gave him. 

“Austin,” said his father, “take as long as you 
wish to think over the matter — we will not press 
you. But the mine is a source of the greatest 
annoyance to me. While I had anything to do 


184 


THE TEST OF COURAGE, 


with it, I became almost a physical wreck. You 
see this sort of thing doesn^t agree with me. My 
profession comes first and foremost, and I can^t 
serve two masters. You have no profession 
as yet, and will surely find time to study and also 
to bring your knowledge of law into requisition 
here. We want outsiders, however, to under- 
stand that you own the mine — that we have given 
it to you, and that you are its virtual possessor. 
That is the important point. There will be no 
prejudice against you, and there is a feeling 
against us. At the end of a year, if you see that 
the thing is disagreeable, throw it up, and follow 
out your original plans. I'm sure nothing can be 
fairer than this?" 

It was a clever appeal. Ira Mansfield so recog- 
nized it, and sat back, waiting for the result, 
comprehending suddenly that Austin Mansfield 
was a power in himself, one that had to be reck- 
oned with. The young man listened, weighing 
every word. If he refused, he foresaw a big 
struggle before he could be in a position to ask 
Vera Naughton to marry him. That was the 
ambition of his future now. He wanted Vera for 
his wife, and he wanted to give her a home 
worthy of her. Her parents were wealthy, he 


THE NEW SUPERINTENDENT. 185 

supposed, from the sale of the mine — although 
he had never taken the trouble to inquire what 
the sale had brought John Naughton. He 
knew them too well to suspect them of mercenary 
motives — they would take him without a penny 
if Vera loved him, and although she had not con- 
fessed it, he was sure of Vera^s love, and hoped to 
have his surety made doubly sure upon her return. 
Granted that he took this opportunity, he would 
be close to the desire of his heart; he would give 
Rose and John Naughton the greatest pleasure 
by settling near them when he and Vera married, 
and he could attain the desired end much more 
quickly. 

With lightning-like rapidity these thoughts 
flashed through his brain. He leaned forward 
in his chair with a sigh. Somehow, he wished the 
opportunity had not come — but now that it had, 
he did not feel that he had the right to refuse it. 

“If — I accept, he said, slowly, “what are the 
duties — and the restrictions?^' 

“Restrictions?" answered his father, in a 
relieved tone, for he knew that Austin would 
accept now. “Absolutely none. As for duties, 
they will be explained to you — and you will 
doubtless find others for yourself." 


186 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


‘‘You should ask what is the salary attached — 
that should be your first question/^ said Ira 
Mansfield, grimly. 

“Perhaps, I should,” said Austin. “But I 
know that will be satisfactory. I am looking 
for the unsatisfactory points.” 

“You^re not a good business man,” said Ira 
Mansfield. 

“No?” asked Austin. “That remains to be 
proven. You give me charge of the Veronica 
mine for one year — at a salary of — ? ” 

“Five thousand dollars and a commission.” 

“Five thousand dollars and a commission,” 
mused Austin. “That is — satisfactory. You 
will of course enter into details — ‘a commission^ 
is rather vague — in the contract?” 

“I don’t see that we need a contract,” said Ira 
Mansfield; “you may prove the wrong man for 
the place.” 

“And it may also prove the wrong place for 
the right man,” said Austin. “You’re engaging 
me for a year, under contract. If not, we’ll 
close the matter here and now.” 

“How do we know what crazy notion you’ll 
take in regard to the men — their wages, their 
working-time, their — ” 


THE NEW SUPERINTENDENT. 187 

“I’m supposed to make the mine pay/’ said 
Austin. “I will if it can be made to pay. I 
asked you the restrictions. You tell me none. 
And yet it seems I’m to act under orders. That 
looks like restrictions.” 

“Great guns, man — you’re only an employee — 
you don’t own the mine,” exploded Ira Mansfield. 

Austin laughed. 

“To all appearances, I will, if what my father 
says holds good. But we are conflicting already. 
I warn you, I won’t take any orders. If my 
father sees fit to give me entire charge, either 
you must do the same or I return to New York, 
to-morrow. I’m not much of a business man — 
you can nominate that in the bond if it pleases 
you to do it — but for one year the Veronica mine 
belongs to me.” 

“Regardless of anything we have to say?” 

“Regardless of anything except that the mine 
must be made a paying proposition.” 

“I’ve never done a thing like this in my life,” 
said Ira Mansfield, “but I suppose I’ll have to. 
What do you say, Alfred?” 

“We must accept his terms or sell the mine.” 

Quiet satisfaction reigned in the Mansfield 
household that day. Christine was delighted, 


188 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


Cyrilla rapturous — for it seemed that her stay 
in Elmville was to be an indefinite one. Ira 
Mansfield went home early. 

^‘To-morrow the new superintendent enters 
upon his duties/^ he said, with an attempt at 
playfulness. ^^Don^t disappoint us, young man. 
Alfred will do the introduction part quite neatly, 
I know. I can^t stay — have a big deal on — or 
I would, to judge of the effect.’^ 

“Do you know why I accepted this position? 
asked Austin of his father, as they drove home 
together. 

“ It means an assured future for you, I suppose,^^ 
returned Dr. Mansfield. 

“That for one thing. The prime reason is that 
the sooner I am independent the sooner I can 
marry. 

“Marry! Austin, you^re young to be thinking 
of marriage — at twenty-two. That’s extremely 
young. You’ll change your mind a dozen times 
before you finally meet the lady of your choice.” 

Austin laughed. “You may think so, father. 
But I’ve cared for Veronica Naughton in a sort 
of a way all my life, and if she’ll marry me — ” 

Dr. Mansfield sat up a little straighter. 

“What in the world occurred to change you so 


THE NEW SUPERINTENDENT. 


189 


completely?” pursued Austin. “You thought 
much of Mrs. Naughton, and Vera was like a 
daughter to my mother.” 

“They and I have agreed to disagree,” said the 
doctor, stiffly. “John Naughton is my bitterest 
enemy now, Austin.” 

“Oh, father, John Naughton couldn’t be that to 
any man, he’s too honest, too open. He might 
dislike you, but he wouldn’t wish you any harm. 
They’re good people, the Naughtons — in fact, 
they’re my people. I feel always as if they were 
my own, and I could turn to Mrs. Naughton in any 
trouble as if she were my mother.” 

“It is a distressing and a painful subject,” 
said Dr. Mansfield. “I would rather not discuss 
it. And, Austin — will you oblige me by not 
speaking of them outside, either? I am supposed 
to have been to blame in certain transactions con- 
nected with them, and you’ll still find people who 
do so blame me. It hurts me very much.” 

Austin hesitated. 

“Is it about the mine, father?” he asked. 

“Yes — it is about the mine. They will not 
like it when they find out you have been placed 
in charge.” 

“There seems to be a lot of mystery in connec- 


190 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


tion with the whole affair/’ said Austin. ^^Why 
don’t you tell me all about it and let me judge 
for myself? I’d like to understand the thing.” 

It was the question Dr. Mansfield dared not 
answer — the question he knew he would have to 
face sooner or later, with Austin’s gray-blue eyes 
fastened upon him. What would be the expres- 
sion — what would his dead wife’s eyes say to him, 
looking from his son’s living countenance? 

”Some other time,” he said now; later. To 
go into details would annoy me. I have many 
other things to think about, Austin — many other 
things.” 


AUSTIN LEARNS THE TRUTH. 


191 


CHAPTER XIII. 

AUSTIN LEARNS THE TRUTH. 

Going home!” The young lady turned her 
lovely face, with cheeks reddened by the sharp 
ocean breeze, with sparkling eyes and wind- 
tossed hair. ^ ^Mother dearest — do you realize 
it? We are going home!” 

There was a world of meaning in the words — 
doubt, inquiry, pleasure, anticipation, even a 
shade of fear. 

‘^Yes, Vera — we^re going home.” 

No doubt in those sweet tones — nothing but a 
strong undercurrent of joy; John Naughton, 
standing close to them, heard both remarks and 
laughed. 

^‘The next thing 1^11 hear that you are sorry for 
it,” he said. 

^^Oh, no, John,” returned Rose Naughton,^^not 
that. We could not say that. What a wonderful 
two years it has been.” 

“An imreal two years! ” said the girl beside her. 
“I feel as if we lost Vera Naughton somewhere-— 


192 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


the old Vera Naughton, and picked up a new one. 
I am very much older than nineteen, father — very 
much older. 

^^You have been compelled to think beyond 
your years, said Rose Naughton, thoughtfully. 
“No one could help it, considering all that we 
have seen and done.^^ 

“It will not hurt you any, my girl,^^ began 
John Naughton. 

“Hurt me!’’ she interrupted. “No — I do not 
fear that. But,” she smiled a little then, “you 
see, I’ve grown critical. I’m afraid I’ll be hard 
to suit — when we reach Elmville. I have been 
compelled to think — and human nature is not 
the unopened book it used to be two years ago. 
I am the better for the knowledge — but — I should 
hate to be disappointed.” 

“Yet whom have we met like Austin?” put in 
the mother, quickly. 

“You think he may not measure up — ^is that 
it?” said John Naughton. 

“Yes, father,” she returned frankly. “In the 
first place, we’re odd, we three — we’re companions 
as well as loving father and mother and daughter. 
I’d want, if ever I married, to live just like you 
and mother have done. And I don’t think I 


AUSTIN LEARNS THE TRUTH. 193 

could if — if a man were less honest — or less like 
you, father.” 

John Naughton threw back his head, 
laughing. 

‘'And what of your mother, kitten? Has she 
had all to be grateful for?” 

“Oh, no!” exclaimed Vera, in unmistakable 
tones. “But I think I could be patient like 
mother, and good, too, because I have my 
religion to help me. I don’t suppose I could be 
like her all at once, but I could learn.” 

“As I did,” said Rose Naughton, gently. 

“I could forgive any man almost anything 
except dishonesty, or love of money,” said Vera. 
“I think such a lot of sin comes from that one 
thing. Everybody seems to be working to sup- 
plant some one else, and it causes so much misery. 
Dishonesty, miserliness — I couldn’t bear either.” 

“Surely you don’t think that Austin 
Mansfield — ” 

“Oh, no, oh, no, mother,” said Vera. “But 
the doubts come, you see, and they’re here — and 
yet he writes such frank and open letters that 
they compel me to answer them in like manner. 
In that way I may have given an encouragement 
which I may be sorry for — when I see him.” 


194 


THE TEST OF COURAGE, 


There was silence between the three, which 
Vera broke again. 

shall never forget the ocean, she said, 
dreamily; said, when we first started, that the 
ocean was the most magnificent sight of all. 
And it is. Each of the wonderful places and 
things I have seen has a separate niche. They 
were man’s work — but this is God’s, and I think 
we realize it. That’s what made it so stupendous 
— God’s word which created it.” 

‘^At least we shall never see it again,” said 
John Naughton, slowly. “It is the last time for 
mother and me. Are you sorry, mother?” he 
repeated, fastening his eyes upon her. 

“Do you know of any other people in the 
world who have realized their ambitions as we 
have,” she asked; “and haven’t we enough re- 
membrances to keep us happy for the remainder 
of our lives? And wouldn’t you rather stay at 
home and die peacefully when the time comes, 
than be roaming over the world, not knowing 
where you’ll be laid to rest after the summons has 
left your body cold?” 

“True,” said John Naughton; “that is true, 
Rose. V’’e’ll have naught to do but the work 
that lies at hand, and save our souls, God 


AUSTIN LEARNS THE TRUTH. 195 

helping us. I wonder what the little house will 
look like.^^ 

^^The house is strange, but all our old things 
that weVe had since we’re married will be there to 
make it homelike,” said Rose Naughton. “It 
won’t take you a month to settle down into the 
old groove and forget you ever had an ambition, 
and that it has been accomplished.” 

“We’ve spent some money,” he said. 

“Not as much as we might,” she retorted. 

“Not as much as we would if the mine matter 
had gone right instead of wrong.” 

“I hate to talk about the mine,” interrupted 
Vera. “Don’t speak of it now — on our way 
home.” 

She had not told her father and mother of that 
postscript to Austin’s last letter — received over 
two months ago, and not answered because they 
were running about so quickly, and preparing to re- 
turn. “ Do you know that my father and uncle own 
the Veronica mine.?” he had written, and it had 
disturbed her. What had Austin meant by that ? 
Surely he had learned of Dr. Mansfield’s duplicity 
by this time — and if so, how could he allude to the 
matter in so trifling a manner? He had written 
to her frankly, told her of his homecoming, of 


196 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


the lessening of his antagonism toward his 
father’s wife. She was vaguely uneasy. Could 
it be that Austin would be tainted by that love 
of gain which had seemed to close down so 
suddenly on the man whom she — they all — had 
respected and looked up to? And if so — and if 
so — 

She went no further. The revulsion of feeling 
that swept over her showed her that Austin 
indeed would lose much of her regard in that 
event. She would never marry him, she told 
herself. 

At her request, the father and mother did not 
let the young man know the day of their arrival. 

^‘Let us get accustomed to the air,” she said, 
smiling. don’t want to see him yet. I’d 
— I’d rather not see him for a while, father — not 
until we’re settled.” 

*^He will be very much disturbed,” said John 
Naughton, ‘^and angry, too, and no one can 
blame him.” 

‘‘I’ll take all the blame,” said the girl, quietly, 
“if there is any blame. But give me my own 
way in this, father, please.” 

Their new home was at Trow’s Bridge, five 
miles out, and reached from Elmville by stage in 


AUSTIN LEARNS THE TRUTH. 


197 


summer time when the city visitors came, and by 
carriage in the winter. John Naughton was 
surprised at the activity evident everywhere in 
Elmville. He had no difficulty in hiring a 
carriage. The driver was a newcomer and did 
not know him. The air was black with smoke and 
the dull throbbing of machinery plainly percep- 
tible. The whole face of the once pretty little 
town was changed. They were silent, lost in 
painful thought. Presently the driver began 
pointing out things of interest, and made a 
remark that caused Vera and Mrs. Naughton to 
exchange glances. 

*^The new owner of the mine is making big 
changes. He’s not had charge three months, but 
I tell you things are different.” 

‘^The new owner!” exclaimed John Naughton. 
^^And who may he be? What is his name?” 

‘^He’s old Mansfield’s son. They couldn’t 
make it pay, so they gave it to him. People say 
he’s to do as he pleases with it. The old man 
says it’ll be his’n some day, and if he wants to try 
his hand at it now he has no objections.” 

Vera Naughton turned white. Austin, know- 
ing the history of the mine, would consent to take 
it from his father — oh, he was not the Austin she 


198 THE TEST OF COVRAGF. 

had pictured him! Her mother heard, also, and 
the corners of her mouth tightened. 

‘^Yet it is only hearsay, child. We must not 
condemn any one — least of all, Austin, she 
said, in a low tone to the girl, who nodded 
comprehendingly. “We’ll learn the truth in 
time.” 

“And if Austin — but I won’t talk of it, mother 
— don’t let us talk of it.” 

Austin received a shock some days later when, 
accosting Father Barry — ^who was still stationed 
at Elmville — ^he heard that the Naughtons had 
returned. 

“ Returned ? You are sure, Father ? And they 
never sent me a line — ^Vera has not answered my 
last letter.” He looked so bewildered, and in fact 
so downcast, that the priest pitied him. 

“They don’t understand this business of the 
mine, Austin.” Then seeing his blank stare. 
“If I were you, my lad. I’d have a talk with 
them and with your father, too. It would be too 
bad to spoil a lifelong friendship — ” 

Now Austin was young, and, as we have seen, 
none too patient. The priest’s words hurt him to 
the quick. He had given Vera Naughton the 
first affection of his heart; he had called her 


AUSTIN LEARNS THE TRUTH. 


199 


people ‘‘his” people; and now this evidence of 
neglect, while it wounded, also angered him. 

“ I have nothing to say if they choose to ignore 
it. Father,” he said. “Heaven knows my friend- 
ship has been pure and disinterested, while 
Vera—” 

“But, Austin, you must admit that your 
ownership of the mine looks bad. Why did you 
accept such a thing?” 

Austin opened his lips to speak — then shut 
them. He had taken the position with the 
understanding that the mine was to be regarded 
as his, and that he would not give any one any 
information to the contrary. He had passed his 
word to that effect — and not even in this case 
could he break it. 

“That was all in the line of a business transac- 
tion,” he said now. “I don't see how it could 
affect the Naughtons.” 

The priest studied his face keenly. He could 
scarcely believe that the youth was still in 
ignorance of how his father had acquired the 
property. 

“Austin,” he said, after a moment, “if I were 
you, I would ask my father that question.” 

Some premonition of evil stirred Austin’s heart. 


200 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


He stared at the priest without comprehension — 
then he turned away. 

“ I shall ask him first, Father, he said. And 
then I will see the Naughtons.^^ 

That week was too busy a one to give any of the 
Naughtons time for brooding, but Vera had lost 
some of the bright expectancy which was the 
natural expression of her sweet face. She was a 
lovely girl now, in the beginning of her woman- 
hood. The last two years had added strength and 
will to her features, as well as the mind that 
informed them. She dreaded the first meeting 
with Austin. 

‘‘He will surely hear of it,^^ said the mother; 
“and think how he will feel, Vera.^^ 

“Who will tell him in a week?^^ she urged; 
“no one will see him in a week. And if any one 
does, well — ” 

It was a subject which they would not discuss 
even with Father Barry, but from the constraint 
with which they spoke of Austin, he knew that 
their relations were strained, or that they mis- 
understood one another. Austin Mansfield had 
been in charge of the mine almost three months. 
His father had withdrawn entirely; no one took 
part in any of its direction but Austin alone. 


AUSTIN LEARNS THE TRUTH. 


201 


Father Barry did not like to bring up the subject. 
In spite of Austin’s seeming ignorance of the 
whole affair, he could not tell, not being in the 
young man’s confidence, how much or how little 
he knew. If he were aware of the truth, then he 
must know that the Naughtons would not 
receive him on the old familiar footing; if he knew 
nothing, it was Dr. Mansfield’s right to tell him — 
not the priest’s, who would not meddle in Dr. 
Mansfield’s affairs. 

That night at dinner, Austin eagerly waited a 
chance to bring up the subject. Cyrilla Verney, 
charming as usual, found him but a poor com- 
panion. Dinner was well over when Austin 
spoke directly to his father. 

“The Naughtons are home,” he said; “they 
have been home a week. I intend going to see 
them to-morrow.” 

Dr. Mansfield started. 

“Where are they living?” he asked. 

“At Trow’s Bridge — about five miles further 
out. The house was left to them by a relative of 
Mrs. Naugh ton’s — at least I believe that is what 
they wrote to me at the time. Didn’t you know 
that?” 

“The Naughtons and I are not on confidential 


202 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

terms/' said Dr. Mansfield, stiffly. ''And I wish, 
Austin, that you would not bring their name into 
the conversation so frequently. Of course, they're 
friends of yours — that I understand — and will 
remain friends of yours no matter what my 
wishes may be. But keep them outside — where 
they belong." 

He spoke irritably, and there was the old 
hesitation, the old nervousness, the old uneasi- 
ness that Austin Mansfield so well remembered, 
and which he had thought gone forever, so like 
his usual consequential self had Dr. Mansfield 
been since his son's return. Austin closed his 
lips tightly, for he saw that Cyrilla Verney was 
looking from one to the other in surprise. But 
he was determined to push matters to an issue 
now. He would not go to the Naughtons in 
ignorance. So when his father would have fol- 
lowed his wife and her niece into the parlor, 
where it was their custom to go now every 
evening, he laid his hand upon his arm. 

"I want to have a talk with you," he said, 
quietly; "and I must have it. It is about the 
Naughtons. After this, I shall not mention their 
name." 

Dr. Mansfield pulled his arm away impatiently. 


AUSTIN LEARNS THE TRUTH. 203 

“I have nothing to say about the Naughtons/^ 
he said. 

Unless you listen to me and answer my 
questions I shall return to the city to-morrow 
and throw up everything. 

Dr. Mansfield looked into his determined face, 
with its steady, gray-blue eyes. 

by everything, you mean the Naughtons, I 
would wish such a thing might come to pass,” he 
said. ‘^But Ifil listen to you — I suppose I might 
as well have it over. You can wait until later, 
however? It may cause remark if we slip off now.” 

It was so plainly a striving after time that the 
haunting fear in Austin's mind became almost a 
certainty. But he removed his hand quietly. 

“Very well, father — at your convenience, so 
that it is this evening.” 

Dr. Mansfield was desperate. It is safe to say 
he did not enjoy that evening, or the brilliant 
music of Miss Verney, or the conversation which 
she managed, willy-nilly, to inveigle him into. 
His thoughts were full of Austin, and of what 
Austin would do when he heard the story. He 
would not try to excuse his conduct — he could 
not. He had had another man at his mercy, and 
had taken advantage of him. He had seen a 


204 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

chance to enrich himself and had done so. The 
right or the wrong of it did not trouble him. 
What troubled him most now was Austin^s 
condemnation and the effect it would have on 
the affairs of the mine. 

For his ill-gained property had netted him 
small comfort. They made money^ of course — 
he and his brother, Ira — Ira was not a man to 
waste time on an unprofitable scheme, but annoy- 
ance after annoyance had come upon him. He 
hated the whole business. He could not under- 
stand the thing, and the competent men who 
were placed in charge he was sure cheated him. 
Austin’s coming relieved him of all that. Only 
three months since his arrival, and already a 
smoothness was apparent which had never been 
perceived. The men worked without friction; 
the miners themselves seemed better satisfied. 
And if Austin left it would be the same old 
trouble over again. 

He could frame nothing that would suit the 
occasion — he must tell the truth. He knew that 
no matter what story he concocted, if Austin 
transfixed him with those gray-blue eyes so like 
his mother’s, he would have to reveal all. Lies 
would fall to the ground. 


AUSTIN LEARNS THE TRUTH. 205 

Austin was very quiet that evening, his thoughts 
busy as well as his father’s, and his heart sore. 
That Vera, to whom he had poured out his whole 
soul this past two years, should so thoughtlessly 
wound him — he put it down to thoughtlessness, 
avoiding the stronger word. There must be 
some reason — but what reason could there be? 
Only his father could tell him, since only his 
father and they knew. 

Austin was in ignorance of the fact that a mort- 
gage had been held by Dr. Mansfield upon John 
Naughton’s property — perhaps had he known 
this he could have guessed the whole thing. But 
he had been too young to understand or care 
about matters of business when it was first 
secured, and had been away from home when Dr. 
Mansfield advanced further sums upon the 
property. True, Dr. Mansfield had remarked 
once upon the sum of money which John Naugh- 
ton owed him, but that distressing interview, and 
the miserable condition of mind preceding and 
following it, had completely obliterated all 
recollection of the statement. 

“Austin and I are going to talk over a little 
business transaction this evening — so you will 
excuse us earlier,” said the doctor, rising at last. 


206 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


He was very punctilious in discharging all debts 
of courtesy. In fact, the keen observer would 
have noticed that he was merely courteous to the 
lady who bore his name. Once she was out of the 
room he forgot, or seemed to forget, her existence. 
He listened to her with attention, even showed 
a certain amount of interest in her conversation, 
but that was all. He neither carried out her 
wishes, if she expressed any, nor troubled himself 
to find out her preferences. They were like 
strangers under the one roof, with the exception 
that Mrs. Mansfield had full control of the house- 
hold, undisputed sway, and as much money as 
she wanted to spend — though that was a privilege 
which she was careful in exerting. Mrs. Mans- 
field did not like to spend much money. She 
could go where she pleased, do as she pleased, 
and was looked up to as the wife of one of the 
most influential citizens of Elmville, whose 
prestige extended far beyond the limits of the 
town in which he resided. 

Gradually, during his residence under his 
father's roof, Austin had come to observe this 
stilted courtesy, and to feel that his father's 
wife was simply that by force of circumstances. 
It did no good to wonder what were the circum- 


AUSTIN LEARNS THE TRUTH. 


207 


stances. His father was not a man to give con- 
fidence, nor one to whom a confidence might be 
given. 

The Christmas season, so close to them, em- 
phasized this coldness. What a contrast to the 
genial home atmosphere which used to prevail 
at Christmas time when his dear mother lived! 
How she used to surround the holy season with 
tenderness, and a joy so great that it seemed to 
pervade every room in the house, as well as up- 
lift every heart ! The mysterious little bun- 
dles that were despatched to this household and 
that — had he not been her cheerful, ready 
messenger? And then Christmas eve — and the 
preparation for the feast! He wondered whether 
the doctor would drive down to the church as of 
old, and he and all the members of his family 
enter to go to confession, making ready for the 
day of the Lord and His coming into their hearts 
as of old He came on earth. He wondered 
whether he would do this now — he who had never 
put his foot inside the church since Austin's 
arrival home. 

All these thoughts passed through Austin's 
mind that evening. There was so little religious 
feeling in the home circle now. He was himself 


208 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

of that desirable class — a practical Catholic. 
He made no parade of his convictions, but his 
mother’s training had rooted the faith within 
him, and the splendid example of his brilliant 
tutors had nurtured its growth. He said little, 
but he could not help contrasting Cyrilla Verney 
and her aunt with the Naughtons and his mother. 
Cyrilla might truly be called a religious butterfly, 
conforming to rules as his father had done, but 
seeing none of the deeper loveliness of that which 
she professed to believe. He wondered if people 
such as they ever came to a serious problem in 
life — or if, coming to it, they took it seriously — 
any problem in which the truths of religion must 
prop the fainting spirit. 

Little did Cyrilla, beautiful and accomplished, 
living out the brief day of her charms and using 
them to compass her ends, little did she dream of 
the thoughts which occupied Austin Mansfield’s 
mind. She had resolved that Austin should fall 
in love with her — should ask her to marry him, 
and so uniformly courteous was the young man’s 
attitude that she could see no reason, even after 
almost three months in his society, why her 
resolve should not be brought to full accomplish- 
ment. The very smile with which he bade her 


AUSTIN LEARNS THE TRUTH. 


209 


good-night now seemed to infer a deeper feeling 
than Austin ever intended it to convey. No 
stretch of the imagination could bring the young 
man to dream of Cyrilla Verney as the partner of 
his future. He was too closely wrapped in Vera. 
He had never had any other sweetheart — she 
seemed to have been chosen for him by destiny — 
she was ^his fate. And he turned to her, natu- 
rally, as a man turns to the one woman of his 
choice. 

*^Let us begin at the beginning,^^ said Dr. 
Mansfield when they reached his office, or con- 
sulting-room, or study — all three names were 
applicable to it. “Let us begin at the beginning, 
Austin — and let us get it over. You might as 
well understand the thing now as hereafter.’^ 

“That’s just it, father,” said Austin, in a con- 
ciliatory manner. He felt that he had been a 
little brush with his father, perhaps unnecessarily 
so. He would make amends. 

“It was before your mother died. I loaned 
John Naughton six thousand dollars on his 
property, and held a mortgage for that sum.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Austin, quietly. 

“Of course your mother and Rose Naughton 
were friends — good friends, and matters went all 


210 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


right while — while she lived. I think the trouble 
started the day that I found out — that she was 
ill — that she was even then dying — ” 

He paused, for Austin’s face had turned quite 
pale. He wondered, vaguely, if the young man 
really suffered so intensely as his appearance 
indicated whenever his mother’s name was 
mentioned. 

^^Then came Miss Verney — Christine Verney — 
your stepmother, Austin. She had known us — 
all three— in the past. She knew something — some- 
thing that would affect my career — affect my 
reputation — It was when I was just starting. 
I made a mistake one night, I, myself, on a critical 
case. I gave the wrong medicine, and the man 
died. It was a gross error on my part and 
completely unnerved me. She knew of it — she 
and your mother. She always kept me reminded 
of it. There was another physician who sus- 
pected this. We had had trouble before, and it 
would have given him great satisfaction to dis- 
cover that I — well, that such a thing had hap- 
pened. She threatened to tell him. It was late 
in the day to do that, and your mother used to 
flout the idea of either of them being able to 
injure me. But I knew differently— I always 


AUSTIN LEARNS THE TRUTH. 


211 


knew differently.’^ Austin noticed with some 
surprise that his hands were twisting nervously, 
and that his eyes roved in restless fashion about 
the room, looking at anything but Austin’s face. 
^^She threatened that — when she came — she 
would make that public — and I could not do that 
— I could not let her do that. Your mother was 
very angry — very angry — ” 

^‘As I should have been,” said Austin, in quiet 
tones; *‘it was a case of blackmail — nothing else. 
You had a right to prosecute her. I should have 
done so — yes, and owned up to my mistake. It 
was a fatal error — a fatal error — but not one 
among us is infallible, father. I think you did 
wrong to bother with the creature.” 

^‘Oh, all danger is past now,” said Dr. Mans- 
field. am not afraid now. You will say I 
adopted a heroic remedy by marrying her, but 
she doesn’t bother me. Generally, I forget her 
existence.” 

Austin drew his breath sharply. More and 
more was the fact of his father’s cowardice 
brought home to him. He tried to suppress the 
aversion he felt rising within him. 

‘^Christine Verney and Rose Naughton had 
always been opposed,” continued the doctor. He 


212 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


spoke hurriedly, breathlessly. He had recovered 
himself at last, and would have it over. At the 
time of your mo therms death, John Naughton had 
been borrowing money from me to get his mine 
in a workable condition. All in all, when I 
foreclosed the sum amounted to fifteen thousand 
dollars.^^ 

“When you what, father?” asked Austin. 

“Foreclosed, I said,” repeated Dr. Mansfield, 
irritably. “That’s the whole thing in a nutshell, 
Austin. Ira and I formed a syndicate to buy it 
from him, led him on by offering him his price — 
two hundred and fifty thousand dollars it was — 
and then refused to touch the mine, presumably 
because it was reported to be a poor investment. 
After which I closed on him. At sale, it brought 
twenty-five thousand dollars — it was bought in 
for Ira and me, and no one else bid for it — we 
saw to that. He paid my lawyer the money 
which he owed me. Afterward I heard that a 
relative of Mrs. Naughton’s died and left her a 
little just then. I never found out how much, 
but the house at Trow’s Bridge was included in it 
also. And that’s the story, and no matter what 
they’ve told you it’s no worse than that.” 

He did not look at Austin when he finished, 


AUSTIN LEARNS THE TRUTH. 


213 


but sat back, expecting a storm of reproaches, a 
volley of condemnatory phrases. He waited, but 
no word was forthcoming. And still he waited, 
and not a syllable escaped the young man. He 
ventured to steal a glance at him. But he 
might stare into Austin^s countenance with im- 
punity, for the young man’s eyes were bent upon 
the ground. His face was ghastly — a strange, 
ashy grayness seemed, in settling down upon his 
face, to set his features in a mask. Dr. Mansfield 
gazing, scarcely recognized that face as Austin’s. 

After a while, when he could command his 
limbs, the young man rose. 

“I am going to my own room,” he said; “I 
must think — I must get somewhere alone — alone 
— to think.” 

And Dr. Mansfield, watching, knew that what- 
ever else those words might have meant to Austin, 
they meant that his youth was gone. They had 
fallen upon him heavily, for his shoulders were 
bent, his form drooping. He fumbled at the 
door-knob, opened the door, even shut it behind 
him carefully. Then his slow steps were heard 
as he passed along the hall, and up the stairs. 


214 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

HAVE received a letter from Austin, father/^ 
said Vera Naughton, one morning three or four 
days later, “and I know you and mother will 
like to read it. It is very — interesting.’' 

Later on Vera would feel hurt. At the present 
moment she was angry. Two bright spots of 
color glowed in her cheeks; her eyes were spark- 
ling, her lips compressed. And, glancing first at 
her — wondering at her display of anger, for Vera 
never lost her temper, he read the written words. 

“My dear Vera: [wrote Austin.] 

“I heard, only a few days ago, that you 
and your father and mother had returned 
home. I was disappointed and hurt to think 
that you had come without informing me. I felt 
I had the best right to know of it. 

“But the providence that shapes our ends 
probably had a purpose in moving you to this 
course. You and your people have heard that I 
am now connected with the Veronica mine, owned 
by my father and my uncle. My father intends 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


215 


to buy out his brother, so that he will be sole 
possessor, and in the end the mine is to pass to me, 
although it is even now presumed that I do own 
it. 

In the light of the circumstances under which 
my father secured this property, and considering 
the matter as a whole, I can readily comprehend 
that I must prove an undesirable acquaintance. 
I will, therefore, anticipate what would be, in all 
probability, a painful matter for all. I am re- 
turning your letters to you. We must meet, I 
know. I trust that you will not let me slip alto- 
gether from your memory, but under the condi- 
tions existing at present I dare not ask even for 
recognition. 

“My best wishes to Mr. and Mrs. Naughton. 

“ Sincerely, 

“Austin Mansfield. 

“From Austin!” exclaimed Vera^s father, in a 
tone of incredulity. “This letter from Austin?” 

“ It is in his handwriting,” said Vera, quietly. 

Once more the father read it through — more 
slowly, this time, pondering over every word. 
Then he handed it back to Vera. 

“ I do not think even mother can make excuses 
for him now,” said the girl. Her cheeks were 
flaming. “ Austin has chosen between friendship 
and money. He is his father’s son, after all. 


216 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

Probably the choice narrowed down to the 
question of giving up the Naughtons or giving 
up the mine. It was easier to give up — the 
Naughtons.” 

^^Vera,” said the father, gently, ^^you won’t 
let this make you unhappy?” 

‘‘Unhappy!” She turned to him with spark- 
ling eyes. “If Austin had died, father, I could 
have grieved all my life for him. But Austin’s 
nobility is dead and my grief for that will be 
shortlived.” 

Rose Naughton was perplexed when she read 
that brief letter. She could not understand it. 
She, too, weighed it carefully. 

“I’m afraid there’s something to it we do not 
understand,” she said. “I wish I could read 
below the surface. Austin has never written in 
such a stilted fashion. There is something 
wrong.” 

“There is something wrong,” repeated John 
Naughton, with emphasis. “ I can not hold him 
blameless in this matter, mother. Thank heaven 
we were reluctant in giving him any encourage- 
ment about Vera, always leaving it to the future. 
I’m glad we were that wise.” 

They watched Vera narrowly for the next few 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


217 


weeks, but Vera was not the girl to pine for a 
lover who gave her up deliberately. True, the 
understanding between them had been implied 
rather than formal; nevertheless, every word of 
Austin^s last letters had breathed of the hope that 
was in him; the hope that some day he and Vera 
would start life together, one in faith and in love. 
He had been so happy making all these plans, 
so bubbling over with delight when he wrote to 
her about them. And now came this. 

Wounded pride is of great assistance to a 
wounded heart, and so Vera found it during the 
first few weeks after the reception of Austin’s 
letter and the neatly tied bundle containing her 
own. She had to remark on the care with which 
these epistles had been kept. Each was dated; 
each had its appointed place; each showed signs 
of much handling, as if the recipient had read it 
over and over before putting it away. And again 
she would find little phrases of hers underscored, 
or sometimes a paragraph marked heavily. She 
seemed to be reading over the missives which she 
had written to one long dead, as she picked up 
one after the other. The thought struck her 
with great force, and for the first time — for she 
had not opened them for a full month after she 


218 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


received them, her eyes filled with tears. How 
nobly Austin had expressed himself! How high- 
minded had been his sentiments ! What promises 
for his future! How proud she had thought to be 
of him! And how, in spite of maiden diffidence 
and reluctance, she had thought to find him 
worthy, all that her mind had pictured him, and 
more! 

And for money, for the sake of money, he had 
given her up, made of himself a liar, proven false 
to every word he had ever written! There were 
such men in the world, she knew, but Austin! 
Austin to be so! Austin, whom her father and 
mother had loved as their own son. Above all, 
Austin, Juliet Mansfield's child! 

She went off into a day-dream, holding the 
letters in her hands. As if but yesterday, though 
it was now four years ago, she seemed to see that 
splendid countenance, open and lovely, with its 
fearless gray-blue eyes, the soft chestnut hair 
waving back from a noble brow. How stately 
and how powerful she had seemed to the girl — 
as if she could accomplish anything she wished 
to do, simply by the expression of that wish. 
How they had loved each other, how perfect had 
been their friendship; how, without abating one 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


219 


tittle of her love for her own dear mother, had 
Juliet Mansfield drawn her close in the bonds of a 
friend's love, greater than any other friendship 
she would ever experience. Vera Naughton 
knew this. She owed much of her thoughtfulness, 
her rare good sense, to Juliet Mansfield. 

She had, unconsciously, perhaps, given a little 
of the quiet reverence she had had for the mother 
to the son. Glad of her power to win his affection, 
yet she respected him first for his honesty, his 
uncompromising integrity, and it was because of 
a girl's natural hesitation to give up her maiden 
freedom that induced her first reluctance, her 
first fear. She wanted to be sure; she wanted to 
meet him, and yet she dreaded the meeting, 
fearing that he would disappoint her. 

And she had not met him, and he had 
disappointed her. 

It was the first disillusionment of her life — 
the bitterer because it was so great. No smaller 
trials had prepared her for this one. Her mother 
and father, truly good and upright, saw no real 
affliction in anything save in proving disloyal to 
one's ideals, and she, too, had learned that lesson 
from them. This, coming from a source so un- 
expected, found her totally unprepared for it. 


220 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


Therefore, the wounded pride — and Vera Naugh- 
ton was proud with the righteous pride of a girl 
who expects to be sought for herself by the man 
of her choice, wooed because of her character, and 
not because of wealth or loveliness — the wounded 
pride burning within her kept her step firm, her 
eyes bright, her laugh unchecked; and these in 
turn, made her parents glad. 

“ She has not seen him in so long — it is not the 
same as if she saw him every day — as if he were 
her acknowledged lover,’’ said they to each other, 
and rejoiced that it had been so. ‘^How fortu- 
nate, John, that we went away when we did,” 
added the mother. “It gave Vera a chance to 
broaden her mental vision. She will be sorry, 
but she will recover, too.” 

And the weeks passed, and the months, and 
Vera Naughton said nothing of Austin Mansfield, 
seldom spoke of the Mansfields in any way, never 
discussed the Veronica mine. She filled her life 
with other interests, devoting herself to quiet 
ramblings in the near-by woods, sketching this 
or that familiar scene — skilfully enough to 
render her work pleasing and of value. She 
offered her services to Father Barry and he grew 
to rely on her, not only for his music, but for the 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


221 


little errands of mercy which are so necessary of 
accomplishment, and yet for which the busy 
priest found so little time. With the advent of 
the miners he had devoted himself to the study 
of the Slav dialects and could now give addresses 
in that language. They were people utterly 
foreign to his Irish nature, but of one kin with him 
in the brotherhood of Christ. His work was 
ready, and he put his hand to the plow, and 
did not look back. 

Vera, with a gift for languages as well as paint- 
ing, having learned to speak Italian while away 
from home, took up the Polish tongue under 
Father Barry that she might be of further assist- 
ance to him. What had been a task of colossal 
difficulty to the earnest priest proved easy to the 
more adaptable girl, who had a quick ear and as 
quick a tongue. In an incredibly short time she 
was able to hold a conversation limited to simple 
words, laughing so readily at her own mistakes 
that the people she went among laughed too. 
Thus a smile was her manner of introduction and 
a smile her welcome. ^^The pretty miss,” they 
called her, and that became her sobriquet. 

In all this time she never met Austin Mansfield. 
Although she knew that he was in the church 


222 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


below her when she sat at the organ during the 
Sunday Masses, yet never once did her eyes turn 
in his direction, though she could easily have 
looked down at him from the loft, unobserved 
herself. Nor after that morning in which she 
and her father and mother discussed the change 
in him whom all had loved, did she mention his 
name. It was as if she were trying to efface him 
from her memory, and if appearances indicated 
anything she was succeeding. 

Another reason for this was the rumor, heard 
so often that it had come to be an accepted fact, 
that the young mine owner was engaged to be 
married to the beautiful niece of his father's 
second wife. How this first started no one knew. 
They were seen together frequently — though 
^'frequently" in this instance meant but four or 
five times if the truth were known. Again, Mrs. 
Mansfield herself, while not corroborating the 
rumor, had not denied it. Cyrilla, openly teased 
by the younger and gayer set, with whom she 
had now become quite intimate, indignantly 
refuted the charge, smiling meanwhile so happily 
and suggestively that her indignation was taken 
with allowance. 

Vera heard the tale without ^ comment. No 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


223 


one but Father Barry knew the understanding 
which had existed between Austin Mansfield and 
herself, though many of the old neighbors, of 
course, could tell why the Naughtons and Mans- 
fields were no longer on friendly terms. Secretly 
condemning Dr. Mansfield, yet he was looked 
upon as a valuable member of society at large, 
the more valuable and worthy of regard because 
of his wealth. He still practised — from habit, 
not from necessity, people said. Perhaps that 
was the reason why he increased his fees twofold. 

Mrs. Mansfield had lately shown a certain re- 
gard for hospitality. Shortly after Austin took 
charge of the Veronica mine she began to send 
invitations to those of her neighbors with whom 
she had become acquainted. Gradually she 
formed a circle of her own, and with Cyrilla’s 
assistance managed to take a prominent position 
in a certain set whose members comprised the 
fashionable society of Elmville. Into this she 
endeavored, by the exercise of every bit of tact 
that she possessed, and even by pleading, to 
entice Austin. Once he yielded to Cyrilla’s 
prettily worded plea — ‘Ho please Aunt Chris- 
tine.” Only once. He never repeated the 
experiment. 


224 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


What of Austin Mansfield during these long 
months? 

No more bitter blow could have been dealt him 
than that which his father, in those plain, bald 
words, had given. It had taken him some time 
to recover; it had taken him a little longer time 
to formulate a plan for the future. Yet every- 
thing was decided within a week — no decade of 
years would ever be longer, thought the young 
man. One overmastering desire took possession 
of him, to see that justice was done to the Naugh- 
tons — and if he were not the agent to accomplish 
this justice it would never come to pass. 

He realized this, and realizing it, planned his 
actions. He went to his father with the proposi- 
tion to buy Ira Mansfield's rights in the Veronica 
mine. Only on that condition and one other 
would he remain in Elmville. The other condi- 
tion was, that at his death, the father should 
deed the property to his son. On this promise he 
would keep entire charge as he had done hereto- 
fore, and he would give up Vera Naughton. 

This last clause pleased the father mightily. 
The mine would be Austin's in any event at his 
death, and Dr. Mansfield came of a long-lived 
race; a fortunate race, who saw a ripe old age, 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


225 


every one of them, and had always died naturally 
when their time came. Austin would be an old 
man, he thought, with a chuckle, before the 
chance offered itself for him to enjoy the fruits 
of that promise. 

Incredible as it may seem, he did not realize 
his own son’s nature. How could he, when it 
was so utterly foreign to him? He knew that he 
had shocked him by the frank declaration of his 
betrayal of the Naughtons — yet when Austin 
quietly made known to him the conditions under 
which he would remain in Elmville, he was 
satisfied that the young man had taken his 
choice — that an assured future was worth more 
than an uncertain one. Willingly he agreed to 
Austin’s proposals. 

He did not realize until long afterward that 
Austin was an enigma to him. As time passed he 
knew that there was a cloud on the young man’s 
brow which never lifted. That he never heard 
him laugh, never heard him start a conversation, 
never heard him take part in one unless forced to 
do so. Gradually he recognized the fact that 
Austin was unhappy. That the stern-faced, 
grave-eyed, sober man was a stranger to him, a 
stranger years older in thought and appearance 


226 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


than his own father. Dr. Mansfield’s smooth cheeks 
showed neither line nor furrow. Austin’s were 
sunken, and there were deep indentions on either 
side of his mouth. He became known as ^Hhe 
hard boss.” He was just to a fault, but merciless. 
Every rule had to be obeyed, and nothing was too 
trivial to escape his eye. He who had started in 
to rule with a rod of mercy, ruled now with one of 
iron. The promise of those first months was 
never realized. And so ‘Hhe hard boss” had 
many enemies. 

What he suffered to line his face so heavily; 
what internal struggle brought that compression 
of jaw and steadiness of gaze, no one knew but 
himself. He had torn out his heart by the roots. 
He had given up a hope dearer than life to him, 
but he never glanced backward along the path 
which he had forsaken. He was not as strong as 
Vera Naughton, however, for he could not resist 
standing occasionally, hidden, unobserved, to 
watch ^‘the pretty miss” as she passed by. He 
knew that if he stepped out across her path she 
would give him her hand in greeting; would lift 
her lovely face, and smile at him, and pass on 
after saying a conventional word or two. But 
the light in her eyes would betray her. She 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


227 


could not keep the scorn from them — he knew her 
too well. And that scorn he dared not face. 

So every sight of her made him no more lenient, 
but less so. The business of the mine increased 
under his fostering. He kept record of every 
penny jealously; his heart and his mind, which 
should have been devoted to the making of a 
happy home, were now wrapped up in the affair 
of money-getting. Vera heard the murmurings 
that rose against him — heard them oftener than 
she liked to hear. And once she spoke to Father 
Barry, in a guarded way. And he in his turn 
spoke to Austin, who laughed and shrugged his 
shoulders. 

^‘This is not the only place in the world; let 
them get something else to do. I hold none of 
them. If they are dissatisfied, let them get out.'' 

Nor could Father Barry influence this man, 
who had once been as wax in the hands of those 
he loved and trusted. He could not blame him. 
Austin was right, but Austin was now ^Hhe hard 
boss.” And that made a vast difference. He 
confided in no one. 

But he was only human — human, with his 
life spoiled through his own act. Had he elected 
to do as the Naughtons would have advised. 


228 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


have wished, he knew that he could have been 
happy. That he and Vera could have been 
happy together. That he was clever enough to 
carve his own successful future, with the possi- 
bility of the mine coming back to its rightful 
owner in the end. But he would have agreed to 
any terms to keep the mine under his control. 
He held it in trust. It was not his father’s, 
not Ira Mansfield’s, not his. It belonged to the 
Naughtons, and to the Naughtons he would 
return it when it pleased God to give him the 
opportunity. He did not wish for that oppor- 
tunity. In fancy he saw himself living out his 
days as he was doing every day. John Naughton 
or his wife might die, would die, probably, before 
the opportunity came. Vera would marry, of 
course. A girl like Vera could have any one she 
chose, and there were many he knew who found 
her fair and sweet. But to Vera, married or 
single, in event of her father and mother’s death, 
or to Vera’s children, belonged the mine of which 
Alfred Mansfield had robbed them. 

If endurance was the test of courage, Austin 
was bitterly tested during the three years that 
followed. He had his moments of despair, too, 
his moments of faltering — but he conquered him- 


The test op courage. 


229 


self. He had set himself a certain task, and it 
must be accomplished — there could be no 
deviation from the line which he had marked out. 

* :j: Hi * * 

To John Naughton and his wife those years 
brought a curious feeling of unrest in regard to 
Vera. Robert Sheridan had never forgotten 
his first impression of the girl when he had seen 
her in her father’s home on that day five years 
before. The most trivial excuse found him at 
Trow’s Bridge now, and John Naughton had 
come to look upon him in the light of a favored 
guest. He appreciated the sterling worth of the 
young man — ^who was now a successful lawyer. 
He had taken the place in his esteem which 
Austin Mansfield had once occupied, and Robert 
Sheridan would have rejoiced exceedingly had 
Vera listened to his suit. But Vera, pleasant, 
sweet-tempered, lovely, unruffled, had no in- 
tentions of marrying, she said. She did 
not care enough for any man to marry him, and 
until she did she would remain under the shelter 
of her father’s roof. Which was well enough in 
its way, but it did not please Rose Naughton. 
For what would become of Vera once the Lord 
saw fit to take them home? Could they leave 


230 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

their beloved daughter to a loveless old age? 
And so Rose Naughton, questioning herself, 
wondered if the feeling for Austin Mansfield had 
been deeper than they imagined it, and if it was 
for his sake that the girl turned a deaf ear to all 
other pleadings. 


THE WARNING, 


231 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE WARNING. 

Their meeting was inevitable, of course. At 
some time it would happen that he and she should 
cross each other's paths. Vera Naughton knew 
this, and had prepared herself for it. Austin 
Mansfield knew it, too, and had often pictured 
how it would occur and what they could say, 
what words would come when they stood face to 
face, forced either to speak or to pass each other 
by as strangers. 

Curiously enough, they met at the portals of 
that church where both had knelt so often during 
the years to praise the God they both worshiped. 
Vera Naughton had been to confession — Austin 
Mansfield was entering with the intention of 
making his confession. For a moment they stood, 
staring, dumfounded. Vera, in spite of herself, 
grew pale as death, while Austin turned ghastly. 
As was to be expected the girl recovered herself 
the first, and, even as he had anticipated, held 
out her small gloved hand in greeting. 


232 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

‘^How do you do?^' she said. ‘'You are well, 
I hope?^^ 

He murmured a few broken words, barely 
distinguishable, and she, with a sweeter smile than 
the first, passed him by, and stepped lightly into 
the little pony-trap which was to convey her to 
her home. It was surely the meeting of bare 
acquaintances. Not a shade of emotion was 
visible on her lovely face, and Austin, staring at 
her and after her, felt that indeed he was shut 
out from her every thought. He turned into the 
little church, but not to kneel at Father Barry’s 
feet as he had intended. Instead he went up to 
the first pew and dropped into it, letting his head 
fall upon his clasped hands. 

He was afraid for himself, afraid for his high 
resolve. The renunciation he had forced upon 
himself seemed too hard, too severe. Human 
nature could not be expected to complete it. 

For a wild impulse to tell her all had swept over 
him. Her lovely eyes upon him, her serene 
countenance turned toward him, that look of 
polite unconcern, ate into his very heart. He 
could not bear it — ^he could not. He knew that 
his plans had been so heroically carried out only 
because he had never met her. And now, strug- 


THE WARNING. 


233 


gling with himself, scorning himself, his weakness, 
he knelt, in a passion of misery. This was the 
girl he loved; the one girl of all the world des- 
tined for him, and he would go miserable all his 
life for lack of her. 

But she was the girl his father had wronged. 

This last he muttered between shut teeth. 
And then he argued that even now it was not too 
late — that he could go to Rose Naughton and 
tell her the story, and show her how hard he had 
striven to do what he thought right — until he 
looked once more into Vera’s eyes. His frame 
quivered under the strength of this temptation. 

He did not know how long he knelt there, 
arguing, yielding, making new resolves, and 
always struggling. He felt that he dared not 
leave God’s presence until he had made up his 
mind. A hand upon his shoulder roused him at 
length, and he glanced into Father Barry’s face. 

‘^You, Austin!” he exclaimed, starting back 
in amazement. ‘‘Why, it is time to close the 
church. What are you doing here at this hour?” 

Austin’s eyes sought his with all the misery of 
his heart in them, and the good priest felt that 
his soul was yearning for consolation. 

“What is it, Austin?” he said, very gently. 


234 THE TEST OF COURAGE. 

‘‘You are in trouble, my son. Can I help 
you?” 

“No, Father,” said Austin. “No one can help 
me — ^no one but God. And He — sometimes it 
seems as if He has forgotten me.” 

Father Barry said nothing. The note of de- 
spair, the dumb look of misery on his face — these 
were new in Austin Mansfield, whom even the good 
priest had come to look upon as “the hard boss,” 
not knowing any more than the world in general 
of the internal struggle of his heart. 

“You know He has not,” he returned now; 
“you know that, Austin.” He hesitated. “I 
donT want to force your confidence — and this 
last three years has made such a change in you 
that I hardly thought you would want to confide 
in any one. But can I help you, Austin? Com- 
mand me if you will. You know that I would 
do anything in my power for you.” 

“Yes, Father Barry,” said Austin, in a low 
voice, “I know that. But I can not unburden 
myself to any one — I dare not. Some day you 
may know the truth. Some day I may have 
the courage to tell you the whole story. But I am 
not yet strong enough. Long ago some one told 
me to be brave, to endure — that endurance is the 


THE WARNIl^G, 




test of courage. I'm trying to follow his advice — 
but I have my limitations." He rose to his feet 
then. ‘^Good-night, Father. Thank you. I 
know that you are my friend — and God knows," 
he added, bitterly, “ I need a friend like you, who 
will supplicate God to make my burden lighter." 

He wrung the priest's hand, quickly, dropped 
to his knee before the altar, and then his rapid 
footsteps echoed down the bare aisle. Father 
Barry knelt to pray for him, perplexed indeed 
at this sudden revelation of feeling on the part 
of one who had seemed to draw further and 
further into himself as the years went by. 

“The Veronica mine has brought little luck to 
the Mansfields so far," he thought. “But surely 
the boy is innocent enough, and though God 
visits the sins of the father upon his children. 
He will help poor Austin now. He, at least, is 
faithful to his religious duties — faithful and 
earnest." 

For Dr. Mansfield wasn't. The front pew of 
the church never saw him now — although he had 
occupied it several times after the affair of the 
mine. Then, his conscience giving him no rest 
in the house of God, he tried to stifle that con- 
science by staying away. But Austin did not 


236 THE TEST OF COVRAGE. 

follow his example, and Austin's name now 
figured where his father's had been wont to, 
although the young man was as averse to publicity 
as the older one was fond of it. 

“In generosity he is his mother's son," Father 
Barry used to say. He could not become inti- 
mate with Austin, however. The priest was too 
close a link to that past, too keen a reminder of 
the happiness he had once known and was never 
to know again. His only refuge was to lock him- 
self within himself; his only chance of keeping 
his secret was to avoid even the faintest approach 
to confidence. 

Moody and depressed he strode along now, his 
head bent, his eyes upon the ground. He could 
not shake off the terrible sorrow that seemed 
heavier than ever; his lost hopes, his vanished 
ambitions loomed big before him and tortured 
him. His head was throbbing, aching — it seemed 
to him almost bursting. He was going home, 
where he would meet his father, listen to his 
smooth voice dwelling on the petty incidents of 
the day, the times; hear droll gossip related by 
Cyrilla Verney in her laughing tones; until 
father and stepmother and charming guest would 
seem leagued together to torment and harass him. 


THE WARNING. 


237 


He would not go home, he thought suddenly. 
He had no home — nothing but four bare walls. 
He had had no home since his mother died. 

He had reached the high road from the main 
street. Every step of the way was fraught with 
memories. How often he and Vera had run 
along this very road — this road still country-like 
and beautiful for the industry which had changed 
the face of all Elmville seemed, by an irony of fate, 
to have spared this one path. Happy, thought- 
less, with never a care upon them — was it possi- 
ble that he could have been that joyous youngster 
who knew no morrow, who lived only in the 
present? He could scarcely believe it. 

He paused. A sound had fallen upon his ears 
— his name, it seemed to him, called in a quick, 
panting voice. At first he deemed it the outcome 
of his fevered thoughts, and, even while he 
stopped expectantly, did not think to hear it 
repeated. But it was, in a trembling whisper: 

“Austin! Austin, come here — here into the 
bushes. Hurry, Austin.’^ 

He obeyed, as he would have obeyed those 
tones under any and all circumstances. Trem- 
bling in every limb, he stepped off the road and 
into the thick undergrowth. Two quivering 


238 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


hands sought his arm, and again he listened, 
almost stunned with the joy it gave him to hear 
her. 

Be quiet just a second. They may be nearer 
than I think. 

He was quiet, with her dear hands close-pressed 
upon his arm, her breath coming in little flurries 
as if she had not had time to recover it. In short 
sentences, then, she explained: 

“I was going home. I tied the pony under a 
tree a half mile further up, and went in to see a 
little girl whom Father Barry takes especial 
interest in — she is dying of consumption. While 
there, the wife, I noticed, was crying, and when I 
asked her the reason she told me. Some men — 
her husband among them, had resolved to settle 
with ‘the hard boss^ for good and all this night. 
They are waiting for you even now. As soon as I 
could get away — which she would not let me do 
until I had given her my solemn word not to 
betray her or ‘ her man,^ I made a circuit through 
the woods to reach you. Once I came so close to 
them that I heard them talking. There are three 
of them. They do not mean to kill you, but will 
injure you so severely that you will have to give 
up the superintendency of the mine for a while, 


THE WARNING. 


239 


at any rate. I was frightened to death, but I 
listened to them and stole down here, where I 
have been waiting — oh, it seems ages. You 
must not go home this way to-night, Austin. 

“I will not, then,” he answered, trying to speak 
calmly. “But you — Vera? What will your 
father and mother say — they will be worried out 
of their wits. It is going on to ten o’clock — 
and you are fully four miles from Trow’s 
Bridge.” 

“Bess will run all the way home,” she said; 
surely this man was the old Austin — this gentle- 
voiced man, with the concern for her dear ones 
uppermost in his thoughts. “I felt that I had 
to warn you — I would not dare let you walk into 
danger. Who knows? They do not intend to 
kill you, but they might, at that.” 

“And I could not afford to die — not yet,” he 
said, in a husky voice. “My work is not nearly 
accomplished.” 

“ I will say good-night, now,” she returned. “ I 
must get back. As you say, my father and 
mother will be worried.” 

“ Good-night ?” he echoed. “ Vera — ^will you — 
will you — allow me to go with you? I must 
follow you, if you will not, for I could not permit 


240 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


you to travel alone at this hour. Let me see you 
safe at your father’s door — ” 

^^No,” she said, coldly. am not at all 
afraid; I shall be able to make my way alone.’' 

“Vera,” he said again, “don’t — don’t. I 
promise you I will not speak — not one word. 
Oh, Vera, I dare not speak to you, or to any one. 
Only let me rest assured of your safety — that no 
harm will come to you. This much I must know, 
Vera. Will you give me this happiness?” 

The wistful pleading in his voice touched her 
heart in spite of herself. 

“ I will allow you to come with me, and to see 
me safe in the pony-cart, then,” she said, in quiet, 
dignified accents. “ But more than that you must 
not ask.” 

He bowed his head. The path through the 
woods which they were to take now was an old 
and familiar one. The familiarity of it silenced 
them both, and both were filled with memories. 
Vera had control of every nerve, of every motion 
that might betray her inward thoughts. But 
the strain was too much for Austin Mansfield. 
He stood still beside her and caught her hands in 
his. The moonlight streamed down upon them; 
his face was working. “ Vera — do you remember ? 


THE WARNING. 


241 


The day we came home — from the woods — and 
mother laughed at us? Oh, how happy we were 
then. Vera, do you ever think of that 
time?^^ 

Her face was proud and cold. In direct 
opposition to his emotion was her calmness. 

^^One often thinks of childhood days as the 
happiest,^' she said. ^*As for me — I have no 
particular interest in that time. All my child- 
hood was a happy one. My father and mother 
made it so.^^ 

The cold words steadied him. He dropped her 
hands gently. 

^^True,^^ he said. have no right to ask you 
such a question — no right. But at least it will 
not hurt you to know that I look back upon those 
days almost with fear. They seem to me to be 
too happy ever to have existed. 

They had reached the highroad again. Vera 
called to her horse softly, and was answered by a 
loud whinny. Bess had evidently grown tired 
of waiting. It took the girl but a second to 
loosen her — a task which she would not let Austin 
perform. Then she mounted the pony-cart — 
and Austin looking up into her face saw that it 
was not like that of the Vera he had known. It 


242 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


was set in firm, cold lines, almost repellent lines. 
He stood aside. 

‘^You will not permit me to accompany you, 
then?^^ 

Decidedly not,^^ she said. I am not afraid.^’ 

I thank you for the trouble you have gone to 
in my regard,^’ he said, then. Words seem but 
poor things when one feels as deeply as I do.” 

I considered it no trouble,” she answered. “ I 
would have done the same for anybody. Good- 
night. Do not give yourself any concern about 
me. The road is a familiar one, and I am 
perfectly at home on it.” 

Good-night,” he said. Vera chirped to Bess, 
feeling that she had emerged triumphantly from 
a trying situation. As she had, in all but the 
first words she spoke to him. She did not forget, 
nor was he likely to forget, the trembling tones, 
the familiar manner — as if estrangement and cold- 
ness had never existed between them. It was so 
natural, so easy, to be familiar with Austin, and 
in spite of her assumption of pride and unconcern 
her heart was throbbing so loudly in her side that 
she felt sure that he must have heard it. She 
knew that no confidences might take place be- 
tween them, and so, to fortify herself, she thought 


THE WARNING, 


243 


of that letter of his, in which, without explanation, 
or excuse, for money’s sake, he had broken off 
their friendship. The sting was as keen as ever; 
the hurt that she had tried to conceal, and had 
concealed so successfully from all her kin, burned 
anew within her. It helped her to be resolute, 
but it awoke such strong pain that she knew hhe 
would never forget. She had been telling herself 
so only that afternoon, chiding herself that 
she could not encourage Robert Sheridan, 
promising herself that on the morrow, when he 
came as was his wont, she would listen and en- 
deavor to show him her regard. She was ear- 
nestly striving to do what was right, and she knew 
that her father and mother had no greater desire 
than to see her settled in life. But she could not 
love Robert Sheridan, she told them, and they 
urged her to try, telling her that love would 
come. She had listened, protesting, but half- 
believing. 

And now she knew that love would never come 
— that she loved Austin Mansfield, and would 
always love him. 

It was a bitter thought, for the girl was proud, 
and it occupied her until she turned into the 
stable. There was no one visible, and though 


244 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


she called Peter several times she received no 
answer. Leaving Bess still hitched up, she went 
to the house, and into the parlor, where she found 
her mother. Rose Naughton had been pacing 
the floor anxiously — now as Vera appeared she 
ran to her to throw her arms about her. 

dearest, my own darling,” she cried; 
where have you been? Your father and I have 
been distracted. Mr. Sheridan, too, came on the 
7 :30 train, and has been even more worried than 
we, if such a thing could be possible. What has 
kept you, dear — and where did you meet father?” 

haven^t met father,” returned Vera. ^^Oh, 
I^m so sorry that I worried you, but I could not 
help it. I left church about seven o’clock, and 
went to visit one of Father Barry’s people on the 
way home. I was there longer than I intended. 
The woman was in terrible distress, and finally 
told me that her husband and two other men had 
planned to lie in wait for Austin Mansfield on his 
way home to-night and injure him so as to keep 
him from the mine for a while. I knew that Aus- 
tin Mansfield must pass at any moment, since I 
had seen him going into church. I daren’t trust 
Bess to drive past them — she told me where they 
were — and I was afraid to go on to the church, 


THE WARNING, 


245 


thinking that I would miss him. The only thing 
to do was to find some safe place to hide, wait for 
him, and warn him.'^ 

“ Why, Vera,^^ exclaimed her mother, “ what a 
dreadful thing! It is true? They meant him 
harm?” 

“ I believe they did,^^ said the girl. “ I wanted 
to make sure the story was true, so I got as near 
as I could, and overheard enough to convince me 
that the woman had not been deceived.’^ 

‘^Vera,’^ exclaimed Rose Naughton again, 
*^what will your father say when he hears this? 
My dear girl, he will never rest a moment if you 
are out of the house again after dark.^' 

**Who would hurt me?’^ asked Vera, simply. 
“I think there’s not a man among them I don’t 
know well. No harm can come to me, mother.” 

*^Your father will not think so,” said Rose. 
^^But — ^Austin. Did you see Austin?” 

‘*Yes, mother. I told him. He wanted to 
drive home with me, but I would not let him.” 

Other questions trembled on Rose Naughton’s 
lips, but she kept them back, resolutely, knowing 
that when the time came Vera would tell her all. 
She gave the girl a keen glance; there was a 
strained look about the brown eyes, and the lips 


246 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


seemed more tightly pressed together. These 
signs, and her pallor, of course, could be ac- 
counted for by the nervous strain which she must 
have endured. The young girl glanced at the 
clock. 

‘^Ten-thirty!” she exclaimed. “No wonder 
you were alarmed. When did father start?” 

“About nine,” said Rose Naughton. “He 
probably went straight to Father Barry, who 
will have no clew to the reason of your being 
detained, either. Father will be so worried, so 
excited, child. Of course, you could not have 
done anything else, but my heart just stands still 
to think of you alone in the woods so near to those 
desperate men.” 

“You know they would not hurt me,” said 
Vera; “not a hair of my head, mother. I was 
not afraid for myself, but for ‘the hard boss.’ ” 

She spoke bitterly enough, and once more 
changed the subject. 

“Where is Peter?” 

“Gone with father. Mr. Sheridan, also. He 
was dreadfully upset, Vera. I felt so sorry for 
him. He really cares a great deal for you, 
dear.” 

“Don’t say that, mother.” The young girl 


THE WARNING. 


247 


moved to the center of the room. At that dis- 
tance her face seemed ghastly. “Mr. Sheridan 
must give up — that notion.'' 

Rose Naughton stared at her intently. 

“I thought you said that you would — " 

“Try to like him? Yes, mother. I do like 
him, I do. But not that way." A shudder went 
over her. “I — I couldn't marry him. Oh, no, 
no." 

She began to tremble. The reaction had come. 
In an instant her mother's arms were about her 
again. 

“ You are unstrung, dear. Come, you must go 
to bed at once or you will be ill." 

“No," said Vera, “I am only a little nervous. 
That's but natural. And I couldn't go to bed 
until I saw father. He would fret over me all 
night. I'll go out and fix Bess, poor thing, until 
father comes, and then I'll take a cup of tea," 
with a little smile, knowing that this was the only 
way in which to distract her mother's attention 
from herself. 

Eleven o'clock struck, and half-past, and still 
John Naughton had not returned. Fortunately, 
Mrs. Naughton was assured of his safety because 
he had not gone out alone. Only for this fact. 


248 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


she would have had the same fears that she had 
had for Vera. 

Isn't it strange he wouldn’t send some one 
back to find out if I reached home safely.?" said 
Vera. I can't understand why he stays so long. 
I suppose he has roused all Elmville in his anxiety. 
And poor Father Barry will be in a nice state. 
And it is not his fault, either. He warns me 
always not to go visiting after sundown." 

Now. that it is all over, I thank God that you 
disregarded his advice,” said Mrs. Naughton. 
“If your father would but come!" 


HOW IT WAS SETTLED. 


249 


CHAPTER XVI. 

HOW IT WAS SETTLED 

John Naughton, however, was having an 
adventure of his own — nor had Father Barry to 
worry needlessly over Vera’s disappearance, 
since John Naughton did not reach Elmville that 
night. 

He had waited until nearly nine o’clock, hop- 
ing against hope that Vera would put in an 
appearance, delaying moment after moment. 
But the lateness of the hour then told him that 
something serious must have occurred. He hardly 
exchanged a word with Mr. Sheridan or with 
Peter as he sat grasping the reins of the sturdy 
farmhorse and peering about him anxiously. 

‘^This is a fearfully lonely place after dark,” 
said Robert Sheridan after a moment. *^It is 
not right for a young girl to travel through here 
without an escort.” 

^^If Vera were in the habit of being out alone 
at this hour she would have an escort,” said the 
father, a little testily, it must be confessed. 


250 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


*^That is not her habit, so one has not been pro- 
vided heretofore/^ 

The loneliness and the silence had begun to 
prey upon him now — not for his own sake, but 
because of Vera. Where in God’s name could 
she be at this hour? What could have hap- 
pened? Then a ray of hope came to lighten the 
gloom. 

“Father Barry must have detained her,” he 
said aloud; “and will send some one back with 
her. We will find that we have put ourselves 
about without any cause.” 

“ Her horse knows the way — there is no danger 
of him turning into a side path and being lost ? ” 
suggested Robert Sheridan. 

“Vera was born in Elmville — the country 
hereabouts is like an open book to her,” said the 
father. “ We have nothing to fear on that score. 
She went to church to-night, and the explanation 
I have given is about the only one possible. 
Father Barry needed her, and she remained there. 
She is probably on her way home now.” 

“The Sunday-school children have a picnic 
to-morrow afternoon,” said Peter now. “ I know, 
because my little Gretta is full of it. That is 
why, I guess.” 


HOW IT WAS SETTLED. 


261 


^‘Surely/’ said John Naughton in tones of 
relief. “ Why didn't you volunteer that informa- 
tion before, Peter? Mrs. Naughton would have 
felt easier, and so would I. Well, we've started 
now, and we might as well go on, eh?" 

He said this in so off-hand a manner as to 
deceive Robert Sheridan, who did not know him 
well enough to detect the undercurrent of un- 
easiness which, in spite of his brave reasoning, 
still remained with him. Reassured by his 
confident tones Robert Sheridan sat back com- 
posedly. As for old Peter, he was too phleg- 
matic to waste any energy in ‘^worriting." Time 
enough to do that if harm had befallen ‘^Miss 
Vera." 

John Naughton spoke sharply to the horse, 
then, and plied the whip, for the animal had 
settled down to a steady pace that was little more 
than a walk. To the anxious father it seemed 
as if he were crawling along, and in spite of the 
brilliant moonlight the loneliness appeared more 
lonely, the way more frightfully gloomy, every 
moment. 

They had turned the bend in the road when a 
scene presented itself that caused John Naughton 
to pull up his horse quickly, and Robert Sheridan 


252 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


to start to his feet with an exclamation. There 
were a number of figures in the road — darker 
masses against the dark bushes — and prone upon 
the earth two other figures were rolling in a des- 
perate encounter. A despairing cry burst from 
the throat of one of them. 

Help, for the love of God ! ” it called. “ These 
men are killing — ’’ 

The words gurgled in his throat. Before he 
finished them, John Naughton and his companions 
had sprung to his assistance. The two who had 
been skulking near the bushes fied at once. They 
heard their heavy bodies crashing through the 
undergrowth; but Robert Sheridan and Peter 
were too excited to follow. The man upon the 
ground could not release himself in time to 
escape. He was held fast in a despairing clutch 
— and John Naughton’s muscular arms soon made 
him a prisoner. 

‘'Help the poor fellow up, Peter,'' he said, as 
the hired man bent over the prostrate form. 
“ As for you," to the struggling figure in his sturdy 
grip, “keep quiet or it will go the worse with you. 
You'll find a rope under the seat, Mr. Sheridan — 
I didn't think I'd be using it for such a purpose 
as this — but it will do." 


HOW IT WAS SETTLED. 


253 


An exclamation from Peter made John Naugh- 
ton turn sharply. 

^^Good heavens, sir, it’s Dr. Mansfield!” he 
exclaimed. 

^*Dr. Mansfield!” John Naughton could not 
believe his ears. He repeated the name, aghast — 
but there was no moment to lose in wondering 
and he recovered his senses quickly. ‘^Let us 
bind this lad, Sheridan^ and then see what we can 
do for the poor fellow,” he said. Highway rob- 
bery, I suppose — they thought he had lots of 
money and valuables.” 

The now thoroughly cowed offender was soon 
rendered unable to move. Sheridan and John 
Naughton lifted him into the back seat of the 
wagon, where they bade Peter sit beside him as 
a further guard. Then the two moved to the 
assistance of Dr. Mansfield. He was bleeding 
severely from a cut in the forehead, and had 
evidently been choked into insensibility, for his 
collar was torn and his shirt almost ripped off. 
Together Sheridan and John Naughton lifted 
him in, and the movement must have caused 
him intense pain, for, although his eyes did not 
unclose, he moaned. 

^*The quicker we can get him home and get 


254 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


assistance, the better, said John Naughton. 

We can^t leave him lying here, and you couldn’t 
manage him alone, Sheridan. I suppose I must 
go with you, but God grant no harm has befallen 
my little girl. This doesn’t look very reassuring. 
A thing like this has never occurred within the 
memory of any one in Elmville.” 

Dr. Mansfield was very heavy — but John 
Naughton’s strength was that of two men, and 
he had little difficulty in placing him between 
them on the front seat. They turned the horse’s 
head, and went back much more slowly than they 
had come, in the direction of Dr. Mansfield’s 
home. 

Austin was just hanging his hat upon the rack 
when the front door-bell rang loudly. He an- 
swered the summons in person. He was white, 
jaded, shaken in every nerve. No wonder that 
he started back when his eyes fell upon John 
Naughton. 

^^You!” he said. ^^What has happened — 
what is the trouble? Vera — ” 

John Naughton stared at him a moment — why 
should Vera’s name be in Austin Mansfield’s 
mouth? But he had no time for surmise. 

‘^Your father has been injured/’ he said; 


HOW IT TFA5 SETTLED. 


255 


injured seriously, I’m afraid, because in spite 
of the jolting of the drive here he has not yet 
recovered consciousness. That he is in pain we 
know from his moans.” 

''Father injured!” repeated Austin, in a dazed 
fashion — and in fact John Naughton had time to 
notice that the young man did not seem to have 
his faculties about him. "And you have him 
with you.? Mary,” he said, to the good old 
woman, who appeared in answer to the insistent 
bell, "tell Mrs. Mansfield that the doctor has been 
hurt, and light up his room. We are going to 
take him there at once.” 

Instantly all was confusion, in the midst of 
which they carried Dr. Mansfield in, and laid him 
upon his bed, dreadfully white in his still pallor, 
his countenance as ghastly as it would be in his 
coffin. There was a hurried call for the "new” 
physician in the town proper, and then Austin 
and John Naughton began to disrobe the injured 
man. By this time Austin had recovered suffi- 
ciently to apprise Vera’s father of the cause of her 
delay. The assurance he was able to give — that 
he had seen her start safely on the road toward 
home — calmed John Naughton ’s burning anxiety. 

Peter would not take the doctor’s assailant 


256 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


alone to the jail, therefore Robert Sheridan had to 
accompany him. On the way back they meant 
to stop for John Naughton. 

John Naughton found plenty to do. Somehow, 
Austin seemed still the boy he had loved from his 
youth. He was gentle as of old, manly, earnest, 
direct. So engrossed were they in endeavoring to 
help Dr. Mansfield that he had no leisure to won- 
der at this. All differences, all thoughts of injury, 
were set aside. John Naughton could not think 
that this man had seriously wronged him, or that 
Austin, whom he had loved, had given him up, 
broken his word, so to speak, proven disloyal to 
every vow of friendship. 

But Austin remembered. Austin was bent to 
earth under the bitter lash o memory. His father 
— the man who had belied his promise, who had 
been guilty of deepest treachery — would owe his 
life, if he recovered, to the very one who might, 
with reason, have held him in all possible enmity. 
Owed him his life, and tender ministrations now. 
How Austin suffered, every fiber of his more sen- 
sitive nature — inherited from the mother he so 
resembled — quivering under the sting of it! He 
told John Naughton briefly of Vera's warning, 
and from this they came to the conclusion that 


HOW IT WAS SETTLED. 


257 


the men had mistaken Dr. Mansfield for his son. 
They must have set upon him as Vera and Austin 
were making their way through the side path in 
the woods. 

When the new doctor arrived, he examined Dr. 
Mansfield carefully. Both Austin and John 
Naughton were in the room. He turned to them 
gravely. 

“It will shock you — but he is dying,” he said. 
“Internal hemorrhage.” 

A choking sob burst from Austin’s lips. He 
grasped the doctor’s arm with fingers of iron. 

“He will recover consciousness — he will — he 
must!” almost shouted the young man. “He 
must, doctor!” 

The doctor shook his head. 

“I can not promise you that,” he said. 

Austin groaned aloud. “ Send for Father 
Barry,” said John Naughton. “Telephone the 
jail, and they will tell Sheridan and Peter when 
they arrive with the prisoner. Father Barry can 
drive back with them.” 

Austin thanked him with a look, and went at 
once to the telephone in his father’s office, leaving 
John Naughton and the physician alone with that 
silent figure. 


258 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


‘^You have no hope that he will recover?’^ 
asked John Naughton, now. ‘^He is a Catholic. 
Catholics do not care to die — like this.^^ 

am sorry/^ said the doctor. would give 
you hope if I could, but I am afraid there is none. 
He may recover enough to know what is transpir- 
ing about him, but he will not recover speech. 
And I can not say that even the former will 
happen. 

What a frightful thing said John Naughton. 
^^Ah, me! how little we are sure of ourselves. 
This man left his house to-night, strong, well, with 
every indication of a long life before him. And 
to look at him now — stricken in his very prime!’’ 

“You see that every day,” said the doctor. 
“ It is a pity, though. Mansfield is a clever fellow 
— it is a great pity.” 

“ He was a fine physician,” said John Naughton. 
“Elmville will miss him. He has saved many a 
life — and now his own can not be saved. It is 
horrible.” 

Mrs. Mansfield entered then — calm, subdued, 
her pallor alone giving evidence of her agitation. 

“My husband is badly injured, doctor?” she 
asked. “Do not be afraid to tell me the truth.” 
**You must prepare yourself to bear it,” he 


HOW IT WAS SETTLED. 


259 


said, admiring her self-possession. I am not 
giving you any hope.” 

*'But surely, doctor — surely he will speak to 
us again Her voice trembled. She wrung 
her hands together and bent over the silent form. 

Surely he will not die without a word?” 

The doctor did not answer. Sobbing a little, 
Christine Mansfield knelt beside the bed, and 
buried her face in her hands. What thoughts 
passed through her selfish mind at that moment 
none could tell, but at least death had shocked 
her into sensibility. Death, the great leveler, 
had come. Its nearness, its approach to one who 
seemed so self-sufficient and so proud, struck 
terror to her heart. She was really terrified, then, 
rather than sorrowful. She was thinking, not 
so much of her husband’s death, as of the certainty 
of her own. And the fear of it, the realization 
that, of all the events in the world, only death is 
positive, chilled the blood in her veins. 

She was kneeling so when Austin came back 
again; and had not moved, when a half-hour 
later Father Barry entered. There was little for 
the priest to do. Austin went hurriedly to his 
room, returning with a blessed candle — he knew 
that much would be necessary, but the priest 


260 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


had to ask in turn for every element that he 
needed to administer Extreme Unction. He 
gave the Sacrament with all upon their knees 
about the dying man, and knelt to lead in the 
prayers for the passing soul. Even the physi- 
cian, though not a Catholic, remained, impressed 
by the first Catholic death-bed scene he had ever 
witnessed. And as the prayers progressed, a 
change became visible in the ghastly face upon 
the pillow. Almost imperceptibly at first, the 
eyelids twitched, then unclosed. Father Barry 
sprang to his feet, giving him absolution, saying 
aloud the act of contrition. He listened with 
those eyes fastened upon the priest, and the priest 
knew that he understood. Then when it was 
over, they noticed that he was trying to turn his 
head. 

^‘He wants you, perhaps, Austin,” said Father 
Barry. 

The young man advanced to the bedside. Dr. 
Mansfield could not speak — he would never speak 
again — he was even then entering upon his agony. 
But the entreaty in his eyes spoke volumes to the 
youth gazing down upon him. 

“Oh, father!” he cried out, sobbingly. “Why 
do you think I have been working this past three 


now IT WAS SETTLED. 


261 


years? It was to make that mine my own, that 
in event of your death I could return it to John 
Naughton, who owns it rightfully. Father, you 
did not think I took it to enrich myself? Oh, 
God forbid, God forbid! Be sorry for your sins, 
and go to meet my mother with clean hands. I 
am here to make restitution for you. God will 
not ask you to account for that — only be sorry, 
father, be sorry.” 

And Dr. Mansfield understood, as they could 
see from the light that seemed to leap from eyes 
to face. He looked at Father Barry peacefully, 
then shut his eyes once more. He was a strong 
man, clinging to life. Yet the struggle, though 
severe, was but a short one. He died without 
uttering a sound. 

* 4 : * * * 

When John Naughton reached home that 
night to an anxious wife and daughter, he also had 
an adventure to relate — and they sat long talking 
of the strangeness of the events that had tran- 
spired with such suddenness. John Naughton 
had realized instantly the import of Austin’s 
words — and now, as he related that dramatic 
scene, he walked up and down the room, his hands 
clasped behind him. 


262 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


“How we’ve misjudged the lad — how we’ve 
misjudged Juliet Mansfield’s son!” he kept 
repeating over and over. “And how he has suf- 
fered, our poor Austin — how he has devoted his 
life to our interests — ours! How he would have 
gone on, year after year, slaving, working, toiling, 
for us — ^who had grown to despise him !” 

That thought hurt both John Naughton and 
Rose very deeply. That they, so willing to see the 
best in every one, could have misjudged one who 
had been to them as their own son — this would 
always rankle, in spite of the fact that they could 
not possibly have foreseen such an event or gain 
any inkling of such conduct on Austin’s part. 

They attended Dr. Mansfield’s funeral. He 
was interred in the grave with Austin’s mother. 
Mrs. Mansfield behaved well. There were no 
outbursts; she was calm as usual, and dignified. 
She had lost some of her self-possession, however. 
The nearness of death, the very suddenness of it, 
shocked her into thought of the future, and when 
Father Barry spoke in slow and solenm tones 
of that hour which comes when no man can work, 
she buried her face in her hands. Once more the 
terror of that moment swept over her, and she 
sobbed silently. 


mw IT WAS SETTLED. 


263 


When Dr. Mansfield's will was probated it was 
found that he had left Austin his entire fortune — 
which included some valuable real estate and the 
Veronica mine — ^with the exception of a small 
annuity to Mrs. Mansfield. She made no objec- 
tions, but took what was given her, and left Elm- 
ville, accompanied by her niece, the beautiful 
Cyrilla. For though Cyrilla could have married 
and married well, since she had many admirers 
in the little town, yet she could not bear to be so 
near Austin. By this time she had discovered 
the truth — that Austin had loved Vera Naughton, 
and would always love her. Cyrilla's heart had 
been touched more than she cared to confess. 
But she would forget amid different surroundings. 
Her nature was not of the sort to sorrow long over 
a future which could not be realized. 

Two months later Austin had completed all 
details in regard to the Veronica mine and had it 
transferred to John Naughton. He still retained 
his position as manager and owner, but only 
until such time as John Naughton could grasp 
control. During the interval he had seen Vera 
occasionally, but never alone. His demeanor 
then had been respectful, but self-contained; hers 
had been cordial enough, but cold. 


264 


THE TEST OF COURAGE. 


He had a strong scene with Ira Mansfield when 
he told him what he meant to do with the Veronica 
mine — a scene that brought the flash of battle 
to his eye, and the color to his somewhat wan 
cheek. >His uncle threatened to have him com- 
mitted for examination as to his sanity; he also 
informed him that he should never inherit one 
penny of his money. What remarks Austin made 
to these statements may be inferred, for, as we 
have learned, though he had successfully stood 
the test of courage, he had never learned to control 
his temper. He sought John Naughton with that 
excitement still visible on his countenance. 

can say nothing to excuse mother and my- 
self,’^ said John Naughton when the young man 
handed him the papers that made the Veronica 
mine legally his own again. ^^The mine has 
brought only trouble since I discovered it, and I 
shall gladly rid myself of it at the first oppor- 
tunity. But, Austin, as long as we live, we feel 
that we can never show you how we regret our 
mistake. 

“ My dear Mr. Naughton, said Austin, smiling, 
“how could you have done differently? You did 
nothing. It was I, myself, who brought the 
thing about. I gave you up — ^you did not give 


HOW IT WAS SETTLED. 


265 


me up. If there is any blame you must attach 
it to me, to no one else.’^ 

‘‘Have you made any plans asked John 
Naughton, now. 

“No new ones,” said Austin. “But the old 
ones — ^you remember them — Oh, give me Vera I” 
he burst out then. “You know what she has 
been to me — always, always. Even when I 
thought of her, cold, estranged, even then — when 
I — ^when I pictured her married to another, I 
loved her. Loved her with all my heart. Give 
me Vera, and let the old friendship stand. Take 
me back to where I was — put me in the place I 
once occupied. And then, if Vera is willing, we 
will start on the road of life together, as you and 
Mrs. Naughton started, and carve out a future 
for ourselves.” 

The impassioned accents brought the moisture 
to John Naughton's eyes. He took the young 
man's hand, and wrung it heartily. 

“If Vera is willing I have no word to say — no 
word.” 

And Vera, coming in a few moments later, 
found her hands imprisoned, and looked up into 
Austin's tender face. And this time she did not 
withdraw those hands, nor gaze coldly nor 


266 THE TEST OF COURAGE, 

proudly at the man who had always had her 
heart. 

If endurance is the test of courage then have 
I stood the test/^ he said. ^^And if fidelity is a 
proof of love — ” 

^‘Then have I stood the test as well as you,” 
she answered. “And oh, Austin, my dear 
Austin, forgive us that we did not know — ” 

“Forgive!^’ he echoed. “Don^t, Vera. For 
that word brings up before me all my father's 
wrong-doing. Let us forget everything — every- 
thing that has passed, and start anew." 

They heard nothing ever again from Christine 
Mansfield, although news did come of Cyrilla's 
grand wedding. Robert Sheridan, also, did not 
long remain unconsoled. Yet he never gave up 
his friendship for the Naughtons, and at every 
family gathering none were made more welcome 
than he and his charming wife, while John Naugh- 
ton and Rose were granted, after all, the desire 
of their hearts — their children settled near them, 
and their children's children played about their 
knees. 


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net, o 75 

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Hunolt. 2 vols. 5 00 

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net, I so 

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Hunolt. 2 vols. 


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Short Sermons. Hunolt. 5 vols. 

Socialism: Its Theoretical Basis and Practical Application. 


5 00 
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S 00 
5 00 
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Victor Cathrein, S.J. 

SuRSUM CoRDA. Hymns. Cloth, 0.25; per 100, 
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I 50 
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Theory and Practice of the Confessional. Dr. E. Shieler, 
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net, 5 25 

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3 vols. net, 5 25 

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net, 3 so 

Views of Dante. By E. L. Rivard, C.S. V. net, i 25 

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Morocco, net, o 50 

What Catholics Have Done for Science. M. S. Brennan. 

net, I 00 


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net, o 75 

Bone Rules; or. Skeleton of English Grammar. Tabb, A.M. 
Catholic Home Annual. Stories by Best Writers. o 25 

Correct Thing for Catholics, The. Lelia Hardin Bugg. 


f 


CuiDE FOR Sacristans. 

How TO Get On. Rev. Bernard Feeney. 
Little Folks’ Annual, o.io; per loo. 


net, o 85 
net, I 00 


6 00 


PRAYER-BOOKS. 

Benziger Brothers publish the most complete line of prayer- 
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somest Catholic magazine published. The regular price of the 
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